THE  LIBRARY 


OF 


THE 


OF 


LOS 


UNIVERSITY 
CALIFORNIA 
ANGELES 


of  the  Middlesex  Bar. 


EAGLE, 

/ 

ARLINGTON,    T 


AND 


OTHER    POEMS. 


BY 
ROBERT   B.)  CAVERJ,Y. 


THREE    VOLUMES    IN    ONE. 
VOL.  I. 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED    BY    B.    B.  RUSSELL, 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

ROBERT  B.    CAVERLY, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PS 

-    C7 


ILLUSTRATIONS  VOL.   I. 


THE  AUTHOR'S  HOME.  Frontispiece 


II.  MAGGIE  PATIENT  WAITING.  68 
Artist,  W.  H.  TITCOMBE.                             Engraver,  E.  A.  FOWLE. 

For  me  nnd  thee,  what  joys  to  come ! 
To  meet,  for  aye  to  be  but  one. 
Good  night,  my  dear,  come  bomei 

III.  THE  LITTLE  BIRD,  IN  AUTUMN,  TAKING  LEAVE.  82 
Ai-t.  TITCOMBE.                                                           Eng'r.  FOWLE. 

Now  tbe  icy  bleak  November 

Comes  to  drive  tbee  far  from  me : 
Long  will  I  thy  love  remember, 

Far,  my  blessings  follow  thee  I 

IV.  TRAY,  ON  THE  BATTLE  FIELD,  AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  HIS 

MASTER.  HI 

Art.  TITCOMBE.  Eng'r  FOWLE. 

The  instinct  of  bis  nature  rare, 
His  head  was  high  to  the  tainted  air, 
As  if  in  expectation ; 

iii 


550397 


CONTENTS   VOL.    I. 


THE  EAGLE, 

At  the  tomb  of  the  first  Martyrs          ....  9 

His  habits  and  history          .  .          .          .          .10 

What  the  Patriarchs  said  of  him         .          .          .          .          11 

Ilis  appearance  .......     15 

An  account  of  the  Flood    ......          20 

An  account  of  Old  Job  .          .          .          .          .          .23 

Of  the  Israelites  in  the  wilderness      ....          23 

Pride  [a  paraphrase]    .          .          .          .          .          .          .28 

Valor  and  of  Homer  ......          29 

The  Vine 80 

Parental  care  .          .          .          .          .          .  .          35 

His  peroration;   and  his  flight  to  a  mountain  homo          .     3'J 
Talk  there  to  the  Wood -Nymphs         ....          37 

"        "      of  war  and  the  rebellion        .          .          .          .38 

"        "      of  his  visit  at  Wamesit       ....          38 

"        "      of  trials  and  of  bondage         .          .          .  3U 

"        "      of  the  merchants       .....          41 

"        "      of  true  kindness  [a  paraphrase]      .          .          .41 

"        "      of  liberty -.4-2 

"     until,  at  eve,  he  falls  asleep  .          .          ,          ,          .43 
His  dream,  and,  at  dawn,  his  disappearance  in  the  heavens  44 


™  CONTENTS. 

ZAGONYI'S  CAVALRY  CHAEGE 45 

THE  LOVE  LETTER, —  "He'll  read  it  when  he  wakes"  .          .         50 
GREENWOOD        .........     61 

LITTLE  NED C7 

HARK  !  'T  is  A  VOICE 72 

THE  WOOD  -THRUSH,  [a  dialogue")       .....         77 

LITTLE  MARY  TO  THE  BIRD  .......     80 

NEVER  HUNCH  ........         8J 

NULLIFICATION   .  •  .....     t« 

Ax  ALLEGORY          ........         03 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.  [a  letter]         .         .         .         ,         .         .10] 

BULL  RUN 107 

DUPONT  AT  PORT  ROYAL      .         .         .         .         .         .         .112 

THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD  INSPIRES  HOPE  .         .         .        115 

THE  FIRST  MONITOR 118 

THE  DREAM 122 

ARLINGTON          .         .         .         .-        .         •         .         .         .125 

The  Potomac  and  its  landscape  .  127 

"    drive -way  and  the  specters   .          .          .          .          .120 

"    1st  field  [6,000  dead] 130 

"    Inscriptions  .          .          .          .          .          .          .131 

"    night-dirge 133 

"    interview,  Scott  with  Lee        .          .          .          .          .134 

"    decision  and  the  result       .          ....        ISO 

"    2d  field,  [13,000,]  and  the  night-watch       .          .          .137 
"    dead,  unknown,  [2,111]  .....         138 

"    visitors         ........    140 

"    widow  and  her  dog    ......        143 

"    grave  of  Mary  Randolph  Washington        .          .          .140 
"    return,  and  the  day -dawn  .         ....        119 


ILLUSTRATIONS   VOL.    II. 


L  THE  AUTHOR'S  LIKENESS,  2 

IL  CHOCOKUA  AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  KEOKA,  162 

Artist,  H.  BILLINGS.  Engraver,  E.  A.  FOWLE. 

A  white  flag  fluttered  in  the  air, 
Sweet  stars  from  heaveu  glittered  there, 
And  the  zephyrs  came  to  love  her. 


m. 

Artist,  VAN  RAUCH. 


VICTORY, 


Engraver,  E.  A.  FOWLE. 


Rear  high  yon  statue! — proud  and  just, 

Make  glad  the  consecrated  green, 
Where  doth  the  soldier's  sainted  dust, 

Bespeak  the  sorrow  Earth  had  seen. 

IV.  THE  OLD  GARRISON  HOUSE,  284 

Artist,  N.  C.  SANBORN.  Engraver,  E.  A.  FOWLK. 

How,  oft  amid  the  tempest  blast, 
Ye  heard  the  rattling  arrows  cast, 

The  mid -night  gun,  the  savage  yell! 


CONTENTS    VOL.   II. 


PAGE 

Bride  of  Burton  (Chocorua) 157 

The  Pet  Canary • 169 

A  Memento  (Written  for  a  Lady) 172 

Onward  to  the  Sea  (Sherman) 173 

An  Acrostic  (Advice) 176 

On  Dixie's  Woodland  (Sedgwick) 177 

Cheerfulness  (A  Letter) 181 

Up  the  Kennebec  (Descriptive  and  Historic) 185 

Barnard  Brown  (Admonition) 196 

The  Golden  Wedding  (A  Surprise) 199 

An  Elegy  (Jewett) 207 

"That  Old  Flag  Yet  "(An  Incident) 211 

Again  'tis  Night  (Domestic) 215 

Burnside  at  Roanoke 219 

Our  Day  of  Independence,  —  in  Peace — in  War 224 

Victory  (Peaceful— Serene) 233 

The  Two  Brothers 239 

Festivity 241 

The  Martyrs  (A  Discourse) 243 

A  Prescript,  —  The  Replication 251 

The  Wag  in  a  Grave  Yard 253 

i  Card, — The  Answer 256 

The  Lost  Children  (A  Ghost  in  a  Cloud) 257 

Endurance  (A  Postscript) 272 

A  Night  Thought  (Paternal) 275 

The  Soldier's  Mother  (At  the  Grave) 277 

3 


4  CONTENTS. 

The  Old  Garrison  House  (Historic) 283 

Sam  the  Carpenter 292 

Loss  of  Love  (Suggestive) 29£ 

An  Autograph  (An  Address  to  Patrons) 209 

Our  Pioneers         . ....306 

APPENDIX. 

Note  44,  Cbocorua 469 

"    45,  Lilla 4T1 

"    46,  A  Soldier  at  the  Sea 471 

"    47,  Sedgwick 471 

"    48,  On  the  Kennebec 472 

"    49,  Of  the  Surprise       .' 473 

"    50,  Cemetery  at  L 473 

"    51,  Our  Flag,  — Its  Definition 474 

"    52  to  56,  Rebellion,  —  Its  Cause,  &C. 475 

"    57,  Of  the  Statue  Victory 475 

"    58,  Book  of  the  Martyrs,  —  A  Letter 475 

"    59,  An  Incident 476 

"    60  to  62,  History  of  the  Lost  Children,  &c 476 

"    63,  The  Law  in  such  Case 478 

"    64,  Watchenoet 478 

"    65,  Miantonimo 478 

"    66,  The  Chime-bells  of  L. 479 


ILLUSTRATIONS  VOL.   III. 


PAGE 

I,    Man  in  the  Mountain 324 

II.    The  Whale  seeking  Deeper  Waters 330 

III.  Samoset 338 

IV.  Massasoit  and  Qov.  Carver 340 

V.    The  Moose  taking  Leave 342 

VI.    The  Wild  Horse 378 

VII     Death  of  King  Philip 346 

VIII.    The  Indian  Conflict 414 

IX.    Indians  crossing  to  the  Contoocook 364 

X.    Mrs.  Duston  killing  her  Captors 366 

XI.    The  Old  Homestead 424 

XII.    Wheel  of  the  Olden  Time 374 

XIII.  The  Contoocook 308 

XIV.  Tisquantum's  Return 388 

XV.    Sir  Francis  Drake,  from  an  old  English  Painting,  —  A  White  Man, 

first  in  New  England 338 

5 


CONTENTS  VOL.   III. 


PAGE 

Our  Pioneers  (Boston  Statue) 306 

The  Landscape 324 

The  Creation 325 

The  Storm     .        .       . 326 

The  Torrent 327 

The  Sea 328 

The  Working  of  the  Waters .  329 

Finny  Tribes,  First  Appearance  of '•       .       .  330 

Birds,                    "               "          "                 332 

Animals,               "              "           " 333 

First  Indian,  Appearance  of 333 

The  Indian's  Habits  and  History 334 

The  Pilgrims  coming,  ttnd  Squanto,  alias  Tisquantum,  "  wandering  here 

alone" 336 

Same-set !    His  Personal  Appearance,  &c 338 

The  First  Treaty,—  Pilgrims  with  King  Massasoit 339 

Tisquantum  dies,  giving  all  this  Domain  to  the  Pilgrims  ....  340 

Progress  in  that  Day 342 

The  Fifty  Years'  Peace,  up  to  Philip's  Time 342 

Philip  meditates  War,  and  Sassamon  divulges  it  to  the  Pilgrims       .       .  343 

Sassamon  is  murdered  by  Philip's  Men 343 

The  Murderers  are  tried  in  an  English  Court .......  343 

Philip  appears  in  Court  denying  the  Jurisdiction 343 

Philip's  Argument 344 

The  Murderers  executed  is  the  First  Step  to  Philip't  War       ...  345 

The  War,  and  Philip's  Death 345 

Peace .        .       . 346 

Xing  William's  War,  and  Woman's  Heroism  in  that  Day    ....  349 
The  White  Man's  Mode  of  Defence  to  Indian  Warfare     ....  350 
The  Story  of  the  Capture  of  Mrs.  Duston  and  her  Two  Assistants  by  the 
Indians,  —  the  Slaughter  of  the  Indians  by  them,  and  their  Final  Es- 
cape from  Captivity 351 

Progress  as  made  by  the  Pilgrims 366 

The  Revolution     ,                                                                    ....  367 


8  CONTENTS. 

The  Veterans  of  the  Revolution 367 

Industry  and  Habits  of  the  Generation  next  succeeding  the  Revolution, 

in  the  Seasons  of 368 

Haying 369 

Threshing  the  Grain 370 

Harvesting  and  Husking  the  Corn 371 

The  Sabbath-Day         • 373 

Habits  of  the  Household  in  the  Olden  Time 374 

Modern  Inventions 375 

Progress  in  this  Valley  in  the 

Building  of  Cities 376 

Turning  the  River  Power 376 

Erecting  Manufactories 376 

Making  Progress  in  Science  as  well  as  Art 377 

The  Railroad  in  this  Valley,  and  its  Work 378 

The  Telegraph  and  its  Work 379 

Improvements  here  in  Husbandry 380 

The  Six  CITIES,  —  Lowell,  Manchester,   Concord,  Newburyport,   Law- 
rence, and  Nashua,  with  the  Villages  and  Towns  on  the  MERRQIAO,  in 

their  various  Trades,  Art,  Science,  and  Industry 380 

Of  the  many  renowned  Sons  of  this  Valley,  a  few  are  named,  to  wit : 

LOWELL  and  JACKSON,  famed  for  Force  of   Character,   and  for 

Knowledge  and  Skill  in  the  Arts 376 

STARK  and  PIERCE,  known  to  Revolutionary  Fame    ....  368 

WEBSTER  for  Eloquence 383 

PARSONS  for  Law  and  Learning 383 

AYER  for  the  extent  of  his  Operations  in  the  Healing  Art    .       .       .382 

WHTTTIER  for  Truthful  Song 384 

The  Four  Tears'  Rebellion ;  and  the  rush  from  this  Valley  to  resist  it       .  385 

The  Force  employed  in  its  Overthrow 386 

LINCOLN,  GRANT,  SHERMAN,  and  SHERIDAN 388 

TISQUANTCM'S  Return  to  the  MERRIMAC 390 

My  Morning  Ray 395 

God  over  All 398 

Daniel  and  his  Dog 401 

Jerusalem 407 

Years  of  Pocomtuck 409 

Dedication         ..............  419 

Our  Native  Home 421 

"How  Sweet  the  Hour" .       .  426 

The  Old  Elm 428 

May-Day 435 

An  Impromptu 442 

A  .Month  among  the  Tombs 413 


AN    EAGLE. 


HE  Eagle  that  gave  occasion  to  this  song  came  into  Low- 
ell and  took  his  stand  within  the  enclosure,  on  the  lofty  shaft 
erected  at  the  tomb  of  the  first  martyrs  of  the  rebellion.(a) 
His  appearance  there,  in  the  heart  of  a  populous  city,  so  far 
distant  from  the  mountains,  awakened  amazement.  The  throngs 
that  gathered  and  ga^ed  upon  him,  were  greatly  moved  by  an  ad- 
vent ,«o  strangely  extraordinary;  perhaps  ominous. 

(6)  Some  days  afterwards,  in  a  neighboring  town,  he  was  decoyed 
and  captured.  His  strength  was  herculean.  His  captor  (it  is  said,) 
suffered  damage  through  the  loss  of  garments,  in  the  act  of  taking 
him. 

(c)  He  was  then  obtained  by  an  association  of  young  men,  and 
for  some  time  was  held  on  exhibition. 

(d)  At  length,  certain  merchants,  by  contribution,  purchased  his 
freedom. 

<f)    At  the  hour  appointed  for  his  release,  he  was  taken  to  a  high 


10  THE    EAGLE. 

tower,  and  thousands  witnessed  his  beauty  of  movement,  and  swift- 
ness of  flight,  when  he  took  his  departure  towards  the  hill-top-  afar  off. 
(/)  Mr.  Wilson,  the  Ornithologist,  speaks  of  the  Eagle  thus:  — 
"  This  bird  has  been  long  known  to  Naturalists,  being  common  to 
both  continents.  .  .  .  Formed  by  nature  for  braving  the  severest 
rold,  feeding  equally  on  the  produce  of  the  sea  and  of  the  land :  pos- 
sessing powers  of  flight  capable  of  out- stripping  even  the  tempests 
themselves,  unawed  by  anything  but  man ;  and  from  the  ethereal 
bights  to  which  he  soars,  looking  abroad  at  one  glance,  on  an  im- 
measurable expanse  of  forests,  fields,  lakes,  and  ocean,  deep  below 
him,  he  appears  indifferent  to  little  localities,  or  to  the  change  of  sea- 
son, as,  in  a  few  minutes,  he  can  pass  from  summer  to  winter, — 
from  the  lower  to  the  higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere,  the  abodes  of 
eternal  cold ;  and  thence  descend  at  will  to  the  torrid,  or  to  the  Arctic 
regions  of  the  earth.  .  .  .  Perched  on  an  eminence  at  the  sea 
shore,  he  awaits  the  approach  of  the  fish  hawk.  The  fish  hawk 
dives  down  rapid  as  an  arrow  from  heaven,  and  disappears  in  the 
deep,  making  the  surges  foam  around.  At  this  moment  the  eager 
looks  of  the  Eagle  are  all  ardor,  —  and  levelling  his  neck  for  flight,  he 
.-ees  the  fish  hawk  once  more  emerge,  struggling  with  his  prey  and 
nounting  the  air  with  screams  of  exultation.  These  are  the  signals 
lor  our  Hero,  who,  launching  into  the  air,  instantly  gives  chase,  and 
soon  gains  on  the  fish  hawk ;  each  exerts  his  utmost  to  mount  above 


HIS   HABITS.  11 

the  other,  displaying  in  these  rencontres,  the  most  elegant  and 
sublime  aerial  evolutions. 

The  unincumbered  Eagle  rapidly  advances,  and  is  just  on  the  point 
of  reaching  his  opponent,  when,  with  a  sudden  scream,  probably  of 
despair  and  honest  execration,  the  hawk  drops  bis  fish. 

The  Eagle,  poising  himself  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  take  a  more  certain 
aim,  descends  like  a  whirlwind,  snatches  it  in  bis  grasp  ere  it  reaches 
the  water,  and  bears  his  booty  away  to  the  woods." — See  Wilson's 
Ornithology,  p.  326. 

In  the  light  of  history,  the  life  of  the  Eagle  is  long  and  eventful.  (l ) 
His  career  has  been  noted  from  the  earliest  ages.  His  life  means 
something. 

(g)  Before  Christ  2350  years,  NOAH  saw  him,  when  he  gathered  to- 
gether "  into  the  ark  two  and  two  of  all  flesh  wherein  is  the  breath  of 
life ;  when  the  rain  was  upon  the  earth,  forty  days  and  forty  nights."— 
Gen.  7:  12-15. 

(h)  830  years  afterwards  JOB  saw  him : — "  Doth  the  Eagle  mount 
up  at  Thy  command  and  make  her  nest  on  high?  She  dwelleth  and 
abideth  on  the  rock,  upon  the  crag  of  the  rock,  and  the  strong  place. 

"  From  thence  she  seeketh  the  prey,  and  her  eyes  behold  afar  off. 

"  Her  young  ones  also  suck  up  blood,  and  where  the  slain  are, 
there  is  she."-Job  39:  27,  28,  29,  30. 

(f)  130  years  later  MOSES  saw  him :  —  "  The  Lord's  portion  is  his 
people.  Jacob  was  the  lot  of  his  inheritance.  .  .  . 


12  TIIE    EAGLE. 

"  As  an  Eagle  stirreth  up  her  nest,  fluttereth  over  her  young, 
spreadeth  abroad  her  wings,  taketh  them,  beareth  them  on  her  wing*. 

"  So  the  Lord  alone  did  lead  him."— Deut.  32 :  9-11, 12. 

(j)  When  430  years  more  had  transpired,  DAVID  saw  him  when 
hesung:  —  " Bless  the  Lord.  .  .  .  Who  satisfieth  thy  mouth  \vi;h 
good  things,  so  that  thy  youth  is  renewed  like  the  eagle's."— Ps.  103 : 5. 

(k)    Blind  HOMER,  120  years  later,  knew  him  when  he  sung  of  "  the 

Sire." 

"  And  forthwith  he  sent  an  eagle,  the  most  perfect  of  birds,  holding 

«fawn  in  his  talons,  the  off- spring  of  a  swift  deer;  and  near  the  very 
'beauteous  altar  of  Jove,  he  cast  down  the  fawn." — Homer's  Iliad, 
«.  8,  p.  142. 

(Z)  ISAIAH,  188  years  later,  knew  him  (Isaiah  40:  3).  And 
about  the  same  period  SOLOMON*  saw  him:  — "Wilt  thou  set  thine 
eyes  upon  that  which  is  not?  For  riches  certainly  make  them- 
selves wings;  they  fly  away  like  an  Eagle  toward  heaven."— 
Trov.  23^  5. 

(m)  He  was  known  of  OBADIAH,  125  years  later.  "  Though  thou 
exalt  thyself  as  the  eagle,  and  though  thou  set  thy  nest  among  the 
stars,  thence  will  I  bring  thee  down,  saith  the  Lord." — Obad.  1 :  4. 

(n)  EZEKIEL,  at  the  same  period,  saw  him,  and  made  him  the  rep- 
resentative of  Royalty  in  the  planting  of  the  Cedar,  which  became  a 
vine.  In  that  parable,  among  other  things,  he  says :  — 

"  A  groat  eagle,  with  great  wings,  long  winged,  full  of  f.-athers. 


SAW  THE    PATRIARCHS.  13 

which  had  divers  colors,  caine  unto  Lebanou,  and  took  the  highest 
branch  of  the  cedar. 

"  He  cropped  off  the  top  of  his  young  twigs,  and  carried  it  into 
a  land  of  traffic. 

"  He  set  it  in  a  city  of  merchants.  He  took  also  of  the  seed  of 
the  land,  and  planted  it  in  a  fruitful  field;  he  placed  it  by  great 
waters,  and  set  it  as  a  willow  tree  ;  and  it  grew  and  became  a 
spreading  vine  of  low  stature,  whose  branches  turned  toward  him, 
and  the  roots  thereof  were  under  him,  so  it  became  a  vine,  and 
brought  forth  branches  and  shot  forth  sprigs. 

"  There  was  also  another  great  eagle,  with  great  wings  and 
many  feathers  ;  and  behold  this  vine  did  bend  her  roots  towards 
him,  and  shot  forth  her  branches  towards  him,  that  he  might 
water  it  by  the  furrows  of  her  plantation. 

"  It  was  planted  in  a  good  soil  by  great  waters,  that  it  might 
bring  forth  branches,  and  that  it  might  bear  fruit,  and  that  it 
might  be  a  goodly  vine. 

"  Say  thou,  thus  saith  the  Lord  God,  Shall  it  prosper?  " 

—  EzekiellT:  3-12. 

And  now,  to  this  generation,  at  the  close  of  a  great  rebellion, 
in  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  sixty-eight,  in  the 


14  THE  EAGLE. 

fourth  month,  on  the  tenth  day  of  the  month,  the  eagle  again  ap- 
pears, and,  as  if  still  contemplating  the  vast  events  of  the  world, 
stands  high  on  the  shaft  above,  "  the  very  beauteous  altar " 
of  our  God. 


AT   THE   TOMB. 


I. 


••HI  why  are  ye  here,  sad,  so  lonely  away, 
High  perched,  from   the  dawn  to  the  noor 

of  the  day, 

Like  a  Priest  or  a  Prophet,  surveying  the  Town, 
Or  one  of  the  gods,  strange,  immortal,  sent  down  : 
Thy  countenance  cool,  and  thy  temples  all  white, 
Like   the   snows  of    wild   winter,  or   frosts    of    the 

night ; 

And  thine  eye  full  of  light,  so  sagacious  appears, 
Bespeaks  thee  a  sage  in  the    wisdom  of  years ; 


10  THE   EAGLE. 

So  much  like  an  angel  in  pinion  of  wing, 
So  grave  and  majestic,  we  hail  thee  a  King  I 

EL 

What  reason,  O  tell  us,  ignoble  or  strong, 
Hath  moved  thy  far-coming  and  led  thee  along? 
Of  time  in  the  distance  or  knowledge  of  ages, 
And  what  ye  have  seen  of  the  saints  and  the  sages  ; 
Thy  life -long  experience,  thy  mental  condition, 
Thy  habits  historic,  untold  of  tradition ; 
What   thought   in  thy  temples  still  turns  in  transi- 
tion, 

And  the  hope,  if  ye  have  it,  of  final  fruition? 
O  tell  us,  now  waiting  as  we  gaze  from  the  Town, 
And   let   the   light  of  thy  life  in  its  gladness    shine 
down. 

m. 
Twas    thus   that  we   hailed   him;     we   sought    a 

reply ; 
But  the    shades    of  a   tempest  still  floated  on  high. 


GHOSTS   IN  THE   CLOUD.  17 

He  stood  like  the  sun,  then  beclouded  at  noon, 
And  the  tear  that  he  shed,  fell  down  on  the  tomb. 
We  glanced  and  perceived  a   great  grief  had   come 

o'er  him, — 
For  the  forms  of  the  dead  in  a  cloud  stood    before 

him ; 
Such  forms  then  so  God-like,  'twas  awful  to  seel 

IV. 

They  had  borne  his  own  image  on   the  flag   of  the 

free; 

They  had  battled  in  life  for  that  banner  of  right, 
They  had   kindled   the   life-blood   of  men   in   their 

might, 

The  tyrant  at  war,  to  the  shades  they  had  hurled, 
And  had  calmed  the  emotions  of  God  and  the  world. 

We  list  for  the  answer — in  throngs  volunteered, 
And  waited  entranced,  till  that  cloud  disappeared; 
When  forth  in  obeisance  he  bowed  like  a  man 
In  the  fuDness  of  heart,  —  and  thus  he  began: 


18  THE   EAGLE. 

V. 

"On  a  cliff  in  the  heavens,  beyond  the  bright  sun, 
High  above  old  Arcturus,  my  being  begun ; 
Near  where  the  Arch  angels,  with  banners  unfurled, 
Chant  holy  hosannas  to  the  God  of  the  world, — 
Up  near  where  the  fields  bright  beaming  are  proud, 

Like  the   tints  'mid  the  rain -drops,  of  the  bow    in 

the  cloud, 

Where  the  lakes,  and  the  rivers,  soft  silver  unfold, 
And  the  rocks  of  the  mountains  are  garnished  with 

gold; 

Where,  sweeter  than  morn  in  the  glory  of  spring, 
The  lily  waves  wide,  and  the  wild  warblers  sing; 
From   the   farthest   fixed   star,  as   ye   see   it   bright 

burning, 

Around  which  the  spheres,  vast,  eternal,  are  turning ; 
Near  where   the   great  Maker  stood   forth  from  His 

throne. 


HIS   ORIGIN.  19 

When  He  framed  the  Creation,  and  called  it  His  own, 
From  there  I  Ve  descended. 

VI. 

Long,  long  are  the  ages 

Of  life's  varied  journey,  and  tragic  the  stages 
Through  which  I  have  come; — ever  anxious  to  ken 
The  ways  of  the  world,  and  the  movements  of  men ;  — 
How  the  Fathers  of  old,  ever  true  to  persuasion, 
From  Adam  descended,  your  own  blood  relation, — 
Then  nearly  allied  to  me  and  to  mine  ;  — 
Their  deeds  are  adorned  on  the  tablets  of  time. 

VII. 

But  sin  much  abounded,  so  fearful  its  form, 
It  curtained  the  earth  with  a  terrible  storm ; 
To  rage  wild,  unbounded,  dread  wrath  to    betoken, 
The  heavens  were  opened,  and  their  bottles  all  broken  ; 
The   God    of   the    skies    through   the    tempest   was 
frowning, 


20  THE    EAGLE. 

And    the  world,  full    of  nations,  in    a    deluge    was 
drowning. 

vni. 
Old  Noah,  to  rescue  the  races,  and  then 

To  improve  the  behavior  of  the  children  of  men, 
Had  fashioned  a  vessel,  stupendous  and  strong, 
And  sought  the  best  blood  of  the  clamorous  throng 
To  cull  out  a  cargo ;    he  gathers  together 
The   twain    of  each   tribe,    (g)   notwithstanding  the 

weather, 

Of  beast  and  of  bird,  the  deep  deck  overflowing, 
The  long  serpent  hissing,  and  bullocks  loud  lowing, 
Huge  lions,  that  roar,  and  creatures  that  quack 
'Mid  the  turmoil  of  terror,  completed  the  pack. 

rx. 

The  Ark,  then,  uneasy  at  the  flow  of  the  fountains, 
Is  dashed  on  the  deep  by  a  surge  from  the  mountains  ; 
.  The  tribes  of  creation,  on  board  at  their  quarters, 


NOAH'S  FLOOD.  21 

High,  now  on  the  billows,  they  plow  the  wild  waters ; 
O'er  dale,  over  mountain,  in  the  midst  of  that  night, 
Overwhelming  the  tree-tops,  deep  buried  from  sight. 
T  was  awful !  the  west- winds  in  anger  were  growling, 
Then  gales  from  the  eastward,  high -heaving,  came 

howling ; 
Then    the    North,    and    the    South    gales,    gushing 

together, 
Roared    rough     o'er    the    wave  -  tops ;     tempestuous 

weather !  — 

With  thunder,  and  storm,  and  foaming  of  flood 
For  the   sins   of  the   world;  —  'twas   the  vengeance 

of  God! 

x. 

Then   when   the    fair   Phoebus   had   dried   up  the 

fountains, 

And    the    windows    were    opened,  (2)    away    to    the 
mountains 


22  THE   EAGLE. 

We  wandered — near  then  to  the  gates  of  Gomorrah, 
In  the  sight  of  old  Job,  in  a  cloud  of  dread  sorrow, 
Unchanged  by  the  union  of  ills  that  betide  him, 
Unmoved  by  temptation  of  Satan  beside  him, 
His  mantle  hath  fallen,  his  locks  have  been  shorn, 
Up  there  from  the  ashes  (3)  he  stands  forth  forlorn. 

XL 

We  listen  and  linger; — he  made  my  acqaintance ;  (h) 
Twas  there  to  the  nations,  a  lesson  of  patience, 
A  lesson  of  love  in  the  bonds  of  affliction, — 
Of  faith  true  in  God; — and  a  warm  benediction 
He    left    to   the   world.     Ah !  't  is   well   worth    the 

labor 

To  know  him  a  Patriarch,  a  friend  or  a  neighbor. 
To  him  was  the  triumph  in  work  and  in  word, 
That  savors  of  kindness  to  beast  or  to  bird ; 
To  man  or  to  angel,  to  Gentile  or  Jew, 
To  earth's  creeping  creatures,  as  well  as  to  you. 


STRANGE   GODS.  2.3 

XII. 

Then  next  of  the  heathen,  'tis  but  a  brief  story; 
The  Assyrian  and  Arab  made  idols  their  glory ; 
They,  thus  in  delusion  wild  then  as  it  ran, 
Created  an  image,  a  bird  with  a  man.  (4) 
Dumb,  dumb  was  that  god,  and  delusive  the  glory 
Of  man  in  his  folly !    he  fell  down  before  me ; 
Such  worship  revolting,  the  birds,  they  repel  it, 
And  the  beasts  in  derision,  they  laugh  when  I  tell  it. 
Yet  prone  to  nude  notions,  the  idol,  he  seeks  it 
In  life  and   in  death — 'twas  the  sin  of  old  Egypt. 

XIII. 

Down   the   deserts    of  Horeb  (5)  near  the  bush  and 

the  fire, 

Up  the  pathway  of  Abram  to  the  mount  of  Moriah,  (fi) 
On    the    shores  of  the    seas,   on   the   brow   of    old 

Tabor, 
On  the   hills    that  were    shaken   at  the  thunders  of 

Kleber,  (7) 


24  THE   EAGLE. 

In  the  vales   of  Mount   Hor,  (8)   of  Sinai,  (9)   and 

Carmel,  (l(l) 

That  blot  oriental,  that  worship  infernal, — 
Of  idols  prevailing,  devoutly  reh'ed  on, 
Beclouded    the    kingdoms    in    the    sight    of    Mount. 

Zion;—  (u) 

XIV. 

Bewildered  the  world  in  the  day  that  discloses 
The  law  on  the  tables  enacted  of  Moses, 
Who,  hating  the  tyrant  and  the  way  of  his  worship, 
For    forty    long    years    f  bore    the    bones '    of    old 

Joseph  (12) 

Through  the  desert,  in  tempest,  in  plague,  and  in  war, 
To  the  high -lands  of  Pisgah,  (l3)  for  Canaan  afar. 

xv. 

Behold,  then,  the  tribes,  then-  Chieftain  and  Kings, 
From  bondage  to  freedom,  transported  with  wings  !  (u) 
How  then  the  Egyptians  attempting  to  flee, 
Overturned  in  their  chariots,  had  sunk  in  the  sea; 


SAW  THE   QUAILS.  25 

Then  how  to  all  Israel  a  promise  was  given 
From  the  god  of  the  tribes — a  treasure  from  heaven  ; 
Not  then  to  be  measured  in  meat  or  in  money, 
T  was  Canaan  o'erflowing  of  milk  and  of  honey ; 
That  the  people  might  prove  of  a  better  persuasion, 
'A  kingdom  of  Priests,'  a  magnanimous  nation; 
To  whom  the  rich  manna  fell  down  from  above, 
And  quails,  vast,  in  showers,  descended  in  love. 

XVI. 

Yet    long     having    lived    without    meal,    without 

mutton, 

Allured  of  temptation,  they  acted  the  glutton ; 
Old  Satan,  secluded,  laid  wait  to  decoy  them 
To  the  net  of  intemperance  ; — the  plague  it  destroyed 

them. 

So  died  there  the  pilgrims  !     Such  sin,  at  the  best, 
Is  a  blot  on  the  record  of  man  or  of  beast. 

Still  there  for  the  living  to  lead  them  aright, 


26  THE    EAGLE. 

That  cloud  of  the  day,  and  that  pillar  by  night, 
Stood  high  in  the  heavens,  and  it  welcomed  the  way ; 
Yet  heedless,  unholy,  they  went  far  astray, 
Their  ingots  of  gold,  and  their  rings  at  the  bridal, 
Collected  and  melted,  created  an  idol. 
Here  three  thousand  perished, — 'twas  a  terrible  rod, — 
For  the  crime  of  mistaking  a  calf  for  a  GOD  ;  — 
A  signal  example,  a  lesson  worth  knowing, — 
Still  high  for  the  nations  that  night-star  stood  glowing. 

The  pains  of  the  world  are  the  products  of  vice  ; 
They  fall  in  just  judgments  on  men  or  on  mice ; 
Each  fault  and  each  folly,  in  work  or  in  word, 
Though  nurtured  in  nature,  must  have  a  reward, 
xvn. 

To  be  led  of  allurements  that  tempt  to  misguide, 
To  glory  in  grandeur,  or  strut  in  vain  pride, 
Is  not  mine ;  nor  to  covet  unbounded  fruition, 
Nor  to  bask  on  the  brink  of  unholy  ambition ; — 


STORM    AND    WHIKLtVIXD.  27 

'Your  nest'   mid   the   stars,  though   ye   build    it  in 

mirth,  (m) 

T  will  fall  to  the  dust,  to  the  dust  of  the  earth  ; 
For  the  storm,  or  the  whirlwind,  that  lurks  in   the 

cloud, 
Breaks  alike  on    the    pampered,  the   poor,  and    the 

proud. 

'The  high,'  though  in  garlands  of  glory  they  revel, 
Far  down  with  the  lowly  must  sink  to  a  level ;  — 
Still  yet,  in  the  spirit  great  truth  ye  discover, 
That  the  angels  are  guardians  ;  above  ye  they  hover  ; — 
And  though   they  mount   upward    to    regions    high- 

vaulted, 
The    proud    are    brought    low,    and    the    meek    are 

exalted. 

XVIII. 

Man   toils   for  rich   treasure,  (')  from   the  depths 
of  rude  nature, 


28  THE    EAGLE. 

He  hoards  it,  he  loves  it,  unlike  the  mere  creature, 
Down,  downward  he  grovels  for  gold  in  the  dust, 
His  garments  bespattered,  corroded  with  rust, 
Ah !    why  will  ye  covet  earth's  lucre  so  vain  ? 
It  dies  with  your  bodies,  't  is  dross  that  ye  gain, 
'T  is  the  pelf  of  the  moment  that  flits  in  the  air, 
It  feeds  upon  folly,  and  dwells  in  despair. 

XIX. 

Why  thus  do  I  mention  man's  darling  delusions  ? 
They  strongly  impress  me,  I  mean  no  intrusions. 

Since  the  world  is  (Dependent  on   this,  that,    and 

'tother, 

'T  is  the  height  of  true  valor  to  help  one  another ; 
Not  grudgingly  right,  nor  in  wrong  to  appear, 
In  the  dark  cloud  of  danger,  a  swift  volunteer ;  — 
God's  will  with  oppression — to  never  confound  it, — 
To  leave  '  the  wide  world  '  no  worse  than  ye  found  it 
Marks  a  manly  ambition. 


SAW   HOMER.  29 

My  presence  ye  seek, 

As  once  did  the  Roman,  the  Persian  and  Greek.  (15) 
The   Greeks  were    inspired,  when    at    heavens    high 

portals, 

I  dropt  down  a  fawn  from  the  gods,  the  immortals  ;(k) 
'T  was    seen    of   wise    Homer,    though    then    in   his 

blindness, 

With  the  wrath  of  Achilles  he  sung  it  in  kindness ; 
Wild,  o'er  the  vast  waters,  it  stirred  up  the  fountains, 
Entrancing  the  world  as  it  trilled  o'er  the  mountains, 
Sublime  and  eternal ;    't  was  the  song  of  a  poet, 
Triumphant  and  truthful,  the  nations  all  know  it. 

xx. 

Of  Nature  inspired,  in  her  primitive  days, 
And  still  seeking  truth  from  her  works  and  her  ways, 
I  've  stood  on  the  cedar  of  Lebanon  (16)  high, 
And  down  from  that,  mountain,  beneath  the  blue  sky, 
Surveyed  fair  Canaan. 


30  THE   EAGLE. 

Sought  then,  there  to  scan 
The  mission  of  mortals,  my  kindred  to  man ; 
Saw  the  world  in  its  grandeur,   its  changing  condi- 
tions, 

Its  weal  and  its  woes,  and  its  strange  superstitions ; 
Saw  the  pilgrim  'mid  trials,  his  upward  advances, 
With  the  like  aspirations  in  the  high  hope  of  chances, 

XXI. 

I  plucked   there   a  sprig,  and  I  planted  a  vine,  (n) 
And  left  it  to  prosper  in  the  progress  of  time. 
In  the  land  of  the  r  Merchants,'  it  grew  at  my  word. 
It  lives  everlasting,  and  blessed  of  the  Lord; 
Behold  its  fair  tendrils,  with  vigor  they  rise, 
They  span   the    wide  world,  and   they  cling   to  the 

skies. 

Prolific,  abounding  in  beauty  sublime, 
In  the  fruits  of  salvation  supremely  divine. 

XXII. 

I  count  back  the  periods  that  downward  have  run 


ON   MOUNT   OLIVET.  31 

From  Adam  and  Moses.     Messiah  hath  come ; 
The  world  stood  amazed  at  his  work  and  his  wisdom, 

When  in  light  and  in  love  he  established  a  kingdom. 
Alas  !    then  what    crime,  what    dread    horror,   what 

shame, 
From  the  high  lands  of  Olivet,  (17)  from  Calvary  (18) 

came ! 

Huge  rocks  fall  asunder,  the  mountains  vast  shaking, 
The    temples    are    troubled — earth     rumbling    and 

quaking ;  — 

That  day  became  night ;  the  fair  sun  hid  his  face, 
And    a    vail    'red    like    crimson'    overwhelming  the 

race  — 

O  '  Father  forgive  them  I  '     O,  Father  forgive  ! 
' 'T is  finished  !'     He  said  it,  and  died;  — 

XXIII. 

Yet  to  live 
Earth's  kind  Intercessor  down  the  ages  to  come. 


32  THE    EAGLE. 

'Till  through  her  dominions,  God's  will  shall  be  done  ; 

When  the  lamb  and  the  lion,  foreshadowed  of  old, 

Shall  find  sweet  contentment  beneath  the  same  fold. 

Thence,  though   the  frail  youth   may  faint  in  the 

way, 

And  strong  men,  grown  weary,  may  fall  at  noon-day, 
Deign,  deign  but  to  make  the  Messiah  a  Friend, 
Your  way   to   high   heaven   like   the   EAGLE'S   shall 

tend,  (19) 
And   though    the    rough   path    of  life's   journey    be 

dreary, 

Ye  '11  run  a  good  race,  and  never  get  weary. 
There 's  a    kind    care   in    God   for  the   pilgrim  and 

saint, 
Great   strength  to  gain,  gladly  ye '11  walk    and    not 

faint. 

xxrv. 

But  why  should  I  make  many  matters  my  care 
That  have  no  relation  to  the  '  tenants  of  air '  ? 


HIS  JOY  AND  so:i:io\v.  33 

The  world  is  our  kingdom  to  gladden  and  cheer  it, 
While  the  madness  of  man,  we  have  reason  to  fear  it ; 
To  trust  to  the  God -head,  that  gave  the  wide  wing 
To  fly  from  the  fowler — to  reverence  that  King 
Who  fashioned  a  favor  to  life  unprotected, 
That  when  the  worst  comes,  it  comes  unexpected — 
Is  ours. 

Unadmonished,    untaught    of  its  powers, 
Grim  death  has  no  terror — yet  ever  'tis  ours 
To  know  each  event  of  to-day  or  to-morrow 
Brings  forth,  in  succession,  a  joy  and  a  sorrow. 
In  this  desert  of  dangers,  'tis  dear  to  discern 
Now  and  then  a  true  kindness,  it  comes  in  its  turn. 
Coy,  heedful,  discerning,  judicious  and  keen, 
The  wrong  and  the  right  to  discover  between, — 
We  live  but  to  notice  what  Nature  ordains, 
Her  laws  to  obey,  or  to  suffer  the  pains. 

xxv. 

Though  artful  disguises  may  chance  to  mislead  us, 


34  THE    EAGLE. 

Our  Earth  is  a  mother,  too  true  to  deceive  us ; 
We  pride  not  in  lucre,  in  learning  or  art, 
But  calmly  to  cherish  contentment  of  heart. 

XXVI. 

How  can  ye  gainsay  it? — man  lives  by  his  booty  — 
On  mine  so  do  I,  and  I  deem  it  my  duty  ;  (f) 
Say — is  it  unlawful  to  plunder  the  hawk? — 
Then  why  cheat  the  lamb  of  his  life  at  the  block? 
Why  frown  at  the  foxes  because  they  inveigle, 
Yet  claim  their  dominion,  and  glut  like  the  Eagle? 

How   true !    [ye  have  said  it]  what   though  it  be 
> 

scandal, 
To  f  strain  at  a  gnat '  is  to  '  swallow  a  camel.' 

XXVII. 

What  can  we  do  better  life's  mission  to  fill 
Than   to   trust   the  Great  Leader,  and  work  at  His 

will? 
To  Nature  and  kindred  I  constant  have  cluno-, 

O  ' 

With  a  care  for  my  home,  and  a  care  for  my  young. 


PARENTAL    CARE.  35 

Their  beds  on  the  crag- rock  with  down  do  I  cover 
And  o'er  them  in  storm  of  the  midnight  I  hover ;  — 
To  nourish  their  natures,  sweet  morsels  I  bring, 
And  their  weak  little  bodies  I  bear  on  my  wing;  (i) 

XXVIII. 

O,  ye  who  have  matrons,  yet  living  or  dead, 
Ye  '11  lend  your  attention  to  what  I  have  said ; 
For,  in  the  dark  hour  of  fate  or  of  fear, 
There  is  always  one  heart  yet  hovering  near — 
Hail !  hail  that  dear  Mother,  our  infancy  knew, 
Alike  ever  precious  to  me  or  to  you ! 

Sad,  here  though  forever  we  think  of  the  past, 
Down  the  pathway  of  ages  we  hope  to  the  last ; 
Well  blest  on  the  journey  with  faith  to  recall, 
Ever  constant  in  kindness,  One  Parent  of  all ; 
Who  doth  from  His  bounty  frail  nature  renew,  (j) 
Yet  never  exhausted,  eternal  and  true. 
To  live  but  to  love  Him,  to  move  at  his  nod, 
Dame  Nature  we  cherish,  and  glorify  God. 


36  THE    EAGLE. 

XXIX. 

Farewell !    I  '11  away  for  the  day  is  far  fleeting ; 
Devoutly  I  thank  ye,  made  glad  by  your  greeting ; 
I  thank  ye  for  kindness  in  many  relations  ;  — 
Ye've   written    my   name    on  the    bright  constella- 
tions ;  (20) 

Ye  've  borne  me  in  battle  above  on  your  banners,  (21) 
And  wild  on  my  pinions  have  wafted  hosannas  ! 
Thanks,  now  and  forever,  for   these   many  things  ! " 
Thus  spake  the  wild  hero,  and  took  to  his  wings.  (e) 

XXX. 

Gone  now,  he  has  gone  to  the  hills  high  away, 

Where  the  first  light  of  morning  breaks  down  into 
day; 

Where  the  last  ray  of  sunset,  straight  up  from  its 
fountain, 

Leaves  a  lingering  star  on  the  brow  of  the  moun- 
tain ; 

Where  to  greet  his  return,  in  that  region  unknown, 


AT   HIS   MOUNTAIN    HOME.  3J 

Are  the  hearts  of  his  choice  in  the  bosom  of  home ; 
Where  sweet  the  wild  vespers  make  music  sublime, 
And  the  skies  are  in  motion  at  the  marching  of 

time ; 

Up  there  now  to  dwell,  where  Nature  first  found  him, 
In  the  midst  of  his  kindred  fond  gathered  around 

him; 
With   the    daisy -dressed   wood-nymphs,  all    curious 

to  ken 

The  health  of  the  hero.  They  greet  him  and  then 
They  listen  intently. 

XXXI. 

And  now  he  relates 
The  wrath   of  great   kingdoms,  and    the  conflict  of 

states ;  — 

How  armies  had  gathered,  again  and  again, 
How  the  tramp  of  the   cohorts   had   shook  the  vast 

plain  ; 
Huge  navies,  wide -sweeping  the  ocean  afar, 


38  THE    EAGLE. 

• 

And  how  they  had  thundered  the  terrors  of  war  ;  — 
How  of  late,  in  the  tempest  of  battle  loud  roaring, 
That  moved  mighty  Nations  and  draped  them  in 

mourning,  (w) 
The  oppressed  had  found  freedom,  how  treason  had 

quailed, 
The  wrong  had  been  punished,  and  the  right  hath 

prevailed. 


Then  how  at  Wamesit,  of  ancient  renown, 

He'd   made   some   acquaintance;  —  In   sight   of  the 

Town 

Had  pinioned  the  tombstone  of  heroes  as  high 
As  when  on  the  cedar  he  stood  in  the  sky  ; 
Where    of  old   he   had  witnessed   the   red  man  and 

tribe, 
Deep  then  in  the  forest,  high  then  on  the  tide 


SAW    SATAN.  39 

Of  the  Concord's  calm  confluence.  Well  fed  at 
this  fountain 

Of  shad  in  the  Merrimac,  and  Moose  on  the  moun- 
tain, 

He  'd  seen  Wonalancet.  (23)     Proceeds  to  portray 

The  contrast  of  ages,  the  past  with  to-day; 

Where  the  war-whoop  resounded,  where  the  savage 
then  trod, 

Stood  the  valiant    old   Eliot     at  the  altar  of  God. 

How  different  the  landscape !  strange  wonder  it 
kindles, 

The  wigwam  had  changed  to  a  city  of   spindles  ! 

xxxm. 
He  tells  them,  now  tearful,  how  thrice  on  his  way 

Old  Pluto  had  met  him  and  led  him  astray ; 
And  how  on  that  journey  he  saw  one   McQuistion, 
He    thought    't  was    the    devil ;     [they  called    him  a . 
Christian.] 


40  THE    EAGLE. 

Much  like  a  highwayman,   had  tried  to    decoy  him, 
Then  daring  and  dashing,  as  if  to  destroy  him, 
Pursued   him    pugnacious,  (b)    o'er   hedge    and   o'er 

ditches, 

Most  rudely  assailed  him,  but  ruined  his  breeches. 
Then  how  to  true  honor  it  turned  notwithstanding, 
In  mirth  they  had  made  it,  a  misunderstanding. 

xxxrv. 
How  next  by  temptation,  of  Satan  invented, 

He  'fell  among  thieves,'  (c)  and  was  sorely  tormented  ; 
How  tortured  in  chains,  how  he  struggled  for  breath, 
And  '  sick  and  in  prison,'  was  nigh  unto  death  ; 
What    pains    there    deranged    him,  what    fears,  and 

what  fright, 
What  dread  of  the    day-time,  what    dreams    of  the 

night ; 

Of  the  dungeon's  dark  recess,  of  ghosts  lurking  there, 
And  how  he  long  lingered  in  the  pangs  of  despair ! 


SEEKS   FREEDOM.  41 

XXXV. 
He    speaks    of  the    Merchants,    who  'd  known    him 

of  old 

Far  back  in  that  city  wherein  we've  been  told 
He  planted   the  vine.     How   they  came   to   reclaim 

him,  (*) 
Down    there   at   the    prison's    dark   door  to  unchain 

him. 

List !    list  at  his  story  of  Christian  devotion, 
'T  is  thus  he  relates  it  with  tender  emotion  : 

"  When  I  was  an  hungered  they  gave  me  to  eat, 
They  brought  me,  when  thirsty,  a  beverage  sweet ; 
When  I  was  a  stranger  they  took  me  within  ; 
When  nakei  they  garnished,  and  saved  me  from  sin; 
When  sick  and  in  prison  death's  terrors  to  sec, 
Down  there  in  a  dungeon  they  visited  me, 
To  chide  the  oppressor;    'established  my  goings,' 


42  THE    EAGLE. 

And    filled     the    glad    heart    to    unmeasured   o'er- 

flo wings.  (24) 

In  the  fullness  of  favor  unsparingly  spoken, 
In  the  joys  of  redemption,  dread  manacles  broken, 
I  hail  from  that  dungeon  of  death  and  despair, 
The  bright  beam  of  morning,  the  mild  mountain  air. 
O  Liberty!  liberty!  God -given  boon, 
My  dream  of  the  night-time,  my  glory  at  noon, 
Above  'mid  the  stars,  I  will  welcome  thee  ever ; 
Thy  charms  they  enchant  me,  I  will  love  thee  forever." 

xxxvi. 

He  said  it  devoutly,  and  there  to  his  friends 
Still  further  discourses  to  some  other  ends ; 
He  tells  them  then,  how  at  Wamesit  he  left 
Ten  thousand  there,  sad  at  his  presence  bereft ; 
How  reluctant  he'd  tendered  his  final  farewell 
To  the  Merchants'  that  saved  him,  and  labors  to  tell 


FALLS   ASLEEP.  43 

How  three  times  he  turned  towards  the  thick  gath- 
ered ranks, 

While  he  winged  to  the  mountain,  still  giving  them 
thanks, 

And  how  on  that  way  every  mile  that  he  flew, — 

Was  fraught  with  the  grief  of  that  final  adieu. 

XXXVII. 

Now  night  from   the  heavens  in  curtains  descended, 
When  the  talk  of  our  hero  had  finally  ended ; 
His  last  word  hath  echoed  in  a  cloud  floating  nigh, 
And  silence  pervades  the  vast  realms  of  the  sky ; 
Attended  of  spirits  angelic,  well  blessed, 
The  wood-nymphs  retire  to  their  bowers  of  rest. 
Cool  zephyrs,  serene  to  the  heart  are  sweet  soothing, 
While  the  voice  of  the  Siren,  o'er  the  mountain  is 

moving, 

Grown  weary,  the  Eaglets,  now,  peacefully  nod, 
And  the  Sage  falls  asleep  in  the  care  of  his  God. 


44  THE   EAGLE. 

Calm,  calmly  at  rest !  yet  he  wanders  on  high 
'Mid  the  moon -beams  of  fancy,  'mid  stars  in  the  sky  ; 
Beyond  the  dark  tempest,  triumphant  to   soar, 
And  he  dreams  of  the  joys  he  had  tasted   of  yore, — 
Of  landscapes  unbounded,  sweet  highlands  of  love, — 
On  the  wild  heaving  ocean  looks  down  from  above. 
The  scream  of  the  fish -hawk,  the  fawn  fierce  in  flight, 
The  sad  cooing  dove,  —  in  the  power  of  his  might,  — 
Deep  wild -woods  abounding,  tall  cedars  impart 
A  fantasy  faithful  to  the  dream  of  his  heart. 
Far  upward,  yet  higher,  through  faith  and  delight, 
He  seeks  the  fixed  stars,  and  he  follows  their  light, 
'Till,  when  the  fair  dawn  had  beamed  on  his  breast, 
In  sight  of  high  heaven,  that  land  of  the  blest, 
Above  the  pale  planets,  there  quivering  to  soar, 
He  turned  on  the  wing — and  we  saw  him  no  more. 


ZAGONYI'S    CHARGE. 

OCTOBER    18,    1861.   (*) 


age 
Affords  a  page 

Of  daring  deeds  full  many, 
But  who,  for  dash 
Of  cut  and  slash, 

Is  braver  than  Zagonyi? 

n. 

Three  hundred  scamps 

Be-drilled  in  camps 
Near  Springfield  in  Missouri, 

Defiant  there, 

In  arms  they  dare 
Resistance,  'tis  their  glory. 


46  ZAGONYI'S    CHARGE. 

III. 

Off,  fifty  miles 

Are  sent  in  files 
The  "Body  Guard  of  Fremont," 

To  expel  the  foe, 

Or  lay  him  low ; 
A  nation  doth  depend  on 't. 

IV. 

Out  on  their  course 
With  half  the  force 

Of  foes  to  be  encountered, 
On  chosen  ground 
Entrenched  around, 

To  conquer  or  be  conquered; 

v. 

In  nineteen  hours 
They  met  the  showers 

Of  whistling  buck   and  bullet ; 
When  down  a  lane 
They  sweep  in  train, 

And  leap  the  fences  from  it, — 


HEROIC.  47 

VI. 

Onward  they  dash 

With  spur  and  lash 
Strait  through  the  tented  borders, — 

And  into  line 

In  nick  of  time, 
Within  the  rebel  quarters, — 

VII. 

Frantic,  they  charge 

With  quick  discharge 
And  onward  still  are  dashing; 

From  side  to  side 

From  sabres  wide, 
The  lightning  sparks  are  flashing. 

VIII. 

The  traitor  squads 

As  if  the  gods 
Were  seeking  their  dissection, 

Rush  to  tlte  town, 

There,  scampering  down, 
In  quest  of  some  protection. 


48  ZAGOXYl's   CHARGE. 

IX. 

And  there  pursued 

In  blood  imbrued — 
The  battle  ground  enlarges, 

Till  none  are  found 

In  all  the  round 
To  brook  the  fatal  charges. 

x. 

What  dire  recoil 

On  sacred  soil, 
Which  arrant  knaves  encumbered 

The  rebel  dead 

Left  in  that  bed, 
Their  gallant  foes  out -numbered. 

XI. 

The  village  throng 
Escaped  had  gone, 

In  frightful  panic  scattered ; 
On  the  hills,  amazed, 
They  stood  and  gazed — 

Abashed  at  traitor's  slaughtered. 


VICTORIOUS.  49 

XII. 

All  through  that  night 

Of  awful  fright 
Were  frequent  spectral  hobblings ; 

And  to  this  day, 

That  crimson  clay 
Gives  heed  to  ghosts  and  goblins. 

XIII. 

Yet,  many  a  year 

To  pilgrims  here 
In  freedom's  full  communion — 

Our  earth  shall  teem 

That  war-cry  Theme  — 
Brave  "Fremont  and  the  Union." 


THE  LOVE-LETTER. 


HE  XL    READ    IT   WHEN     HE    WAKES. 


!  direful  scoure  of  earth  ! 


In  hatred  hell  had  given  it  birth, 
To  make  of  MAN  a  Slave,  — 
Called  forth  a  force  defensive,  strong, 
Whose  myriads  mighty  swelled  the  throng 
Of  the  noble  and  the  brave. 


The  battle  rattled  long  and  loud, 


AT   THE    BATTLE-FIELD.  51 

Like  thunders  breaking  from  a  cloud 

That  showers  o'er  the  plain 

Dark,  deadly  hail  -  storm  ; — Earth  turned  pale, — 
And,  quaking,  shuddered  'neath  the  gale 

That  swept  the  world  amain. 

in 

But  when  the  sun  went  down  that  night, 
A  star  let  fall  a  ray  of  light 

Amid  the  dead  heroic; 
It  shone  upon  the  face  of  him, 
Who,  there  beneath  that  battle  din, 

Had  thought  for  Maggie  Moric. 

IV 

For  Maggie,  when  he  saw  her  last, 
On  him  a  lingering  look  had  cast, 
And  talked  of  time  to  come ; 
When  wicked  war  must  needs  be  o'er, 


52  THE    LOVE-LETTER. 

They'd  meet  as  they  had  met  before, 
When  twain  they  would  be  one. 

v 

His  comrades,  'neath  that  twinkling  ray, 
Out  from  that  field  of  death  away, 

Brave,  bore  him  soft  and  slow ; 
True  sentinel  to  such  a  trust, — 
A  soldier  guards  a  soldier's  dust,  — 

Such  truth  he  could  but  know. 

VI 

That  damp,  dark  night  slow  waned  away, 
And  when  Sol  reached  meridian  day, 

The  funeral  service  came ; 
Twas  by  the  call  of  muffled  drum, 
And  march  of  "brave  ones,"   ready  come 

To  bury  Charlie   Crane. 


FROM  MAGGIE.  53 

VII 

There  in  that  martial  group  amid, 

Beside  a  rough -board  coffin  lid, 

The  chaplain  knelt  in  prayer; 
He  soared  on  high  for  hearts  at  home, 
And  fervent  prayed  for  some  unknown 

Loved  one  lingering  there. 

VIII 

Ah  !  't  was  a  strange   presentiment, 
That  o'er  the  good  man's  spirit  went, 

That  led  him  thus  to  pray  ;  — 
To  cause  that  rudest  funeral  bier 
To  be  bedewed  with  many  a  tear 

Which  naught  but  love  could  pay. 

IX 

Up  from  that  prayer, —  near  by  him  stood 
A  post-boy  meek,  in  modest  mood, 


54  THE    LOVE-LETTER. 

Who  in  a  whisper  said, — 
"I  have  it  here,  but  'tis  in  vain, 
It  is  a  letter  for  Charlie  Crane ; 

And  Charlie  now  is  dead." 

x 

Silent,  aside,  they  broke  the  seal; 

It  was  of  love, — its  last  appeal 

From  Maggie,  far  away ; 
The  chaplain  glanced  it  sadly  o'er, 
Then  sealed  it  up,  as  'twas  before, — 

'Twas  for  the  judgment  day. 

XI 

"That  awful  day," — no  mortal  knows; 
Yet  pardon  me,  if  I  disclose 

What  Maggie  wrote  to  Charlie : 
"My  Charles,"  (for  thus  the  letter  run,) 
"  Of  swains  to  me  there  is  but  one ; 

I  loved  thee  ne'er  so  dearly 


THE    DEE  A.M. 
XII 

"As  now.     I  had  a  dream  last  night;  — 
The  light  of  morn  seemed  beaming  bright 

Above  the  high -lands  hither; 
Where,  in  the  merry  month  of  May, 
We  hailed  at  first  that  gala  day 

To  gang  in  lov.e  together ; 

XIII 

"  And  where,  as  then,  far  down  the  lawn, 
The  lily  kissed  the  early  dawn, 

Bright  with  the  azure  blending ; 
While  proud  that  distant  mountain  rill 
Again  leaped  forth,  it  glittered  still, 

Along  the  vale  descending. 

XIV 

"To  tell  what  bloom,  \\litit  flowerets  sweet, 
What  magic  music  came  to  greet 


56  THE   LOVE  -  LETTER. 

Me  there,  I  have  not  words ; 
The  rose  with  all  the  flowers  besides, 
Glad  anthems  true  of  all  the  tribes, 

And  carol  of  the  birds. 

xv 

"The  robin  tuned  his  note  on  high, 
And  jay  and  blue -bird  seemed  to  vie 

In  signal  ecstasy; 

Triumphant  songs  they  sweetly  sung, 
In  chorus  high,  both  old  and  young; 

Sweet  Charles,  they  sung  of  thee 

XVI 

"In  truthful  love.     Next,  far  away, 
A  war -trump  sounded — dread  dismay, 

Some  fearful  ill  foreboding, 
Came  o'er  me  then;  —  and  in  the  vale, 
There  lurking  stood  a  specter  pale, — 

My  joy,  my  all  exploding  I 


ANGEL   VOICES.  57 

XVII 

"  Yet  high  above  the  mountain  range 

i 
Appeared  angelic  voices  strange, 

And  grateful,  glorious  morn;  — 
An  army  then  in  the  distant  light 
Loomed  up,  —  and  then  the  clouds  of  night 

Drooped  down  on  me  forlorn. 

XVIII 

"  Still  there  adorned  to  be  thy  bride, 
My  Charles,  I  saw  thee  by  my  side, 

As  if  ye  were  not  dead ; 
I  raised  both  arms  with  dear  delight 
To  clasp  thee,  yet,  as  quick  as  sight — 

Ye  fled,  a  Phantom  shade ! 

xix 

"  Awaking,  bounding  with  a  scream, 

Aloud  I  wept  — 'Twas  such  a  dream!  — 


58  THE   LOVE-LETTER. 

It  drowns  me  deep  in  sorrow ;  — 
Away  from  war,  my  darling  dear, 
The  day  of  thy  discharge'  is  near, 

Come  home,  come  home  to-morrow! 

xx 

"My  heart  shall  leap  with  joy  serene 

To  hail  thee  here,  at  morn  or  e'en, 

In  manner  most  becoming ; 
I  '11  make  the  gate  -  way  wild  with  flowers  ; 
I'll  know  the  very  midnight  hours, 

Still  waiting  for  thy  coming. 

XXI 

"Up  to  that  promised  bridal  day, 
My  soul,  transported,  wings  away 

To  thee,  to  thee  alone; 
For  me  and  thee  what  joys  to  come ! 
To  meet,  for  aye,  to  be  but  one  — 

Good  night,   my  dear,   come  home  I  " 


I'll  make  the  gate-way  wild  with  flowers  , 
111  know  tie  very  mid -night  hours 
Still '.vai ting  for  thy  coming: 


UNSEALED    IN    HEAVEN.  59 

XXJI 

Silent  that  group,  with  arms   reversed, 
Stood  firm.     The  chaplain  turned,  immersed 

In  thought;  the  letter  takes, — 
And  on  that  breathless  bosom  laid  it ;  — 
"Now  bury  himi"  (in  faith  he  said  it,) 

"He'll  read  it  when  he  wakes." 

XXIII 

And  then,  they  laid  him  down  at  rest, 
With  Maggie's  message  on  his  breast, 

(Repose  more  sweet  it  makes ;) 
And  every  turf  that  on  him  fell, 
In  true  return  it  seemed  to  tell, 

"He'll  read  it  when  he  wakes." 

XXIV 

Green  were  the  sods  they  sought;  —  there,  then, 
True  faith  in  God  came  o'er  the  men 


60  THE   LOVE-LETTER. 

In  vision  bright  and  fair; 
And  when  they  fired  their  farewell  gun, 
Down  from  high  heaven  the  echo  run,  — 

"Oh,  yes!  he'll  read  it  there." 

xxv 

Rebellion  dire !  what  pangs,  what  anguish 

Shall  touch  the  once  loved  heart  to  languish, 
Through  far  off  coming  years  I 

What  deep  endearments  brought  to  naught; 

What  hopeful  joys,  what  darling  thought, 
Are  buried  deep  in  tears  I 

XXVI 

How  many  hearts  are  dying  yet ! 
Bereaved,  how  can  the  soul  forget 

Her  choice  companions  fair? 
How  many  letters  grateful  given — 
Too  late  for  earth,  are  sealed  for  heaven ! 

"  Unsealed"  they'll  read  them  there. 


GREENWOOD. 

[Delivered  to  an  assembly  of  7  churches,  on  the  heights,  at  Green- 
wood Grove,  Wakefield,  Mass.,  July  14, 1868.] 


Dame  Nature  dwells  in  loveliness ; 
Her  dear  delights  enchant  me  now, 
O,  what  a  world  of  wonders  this  ! 


What  mighty  power  rolled  up  these  hills, 
And  scooped  the  verdant  valleys  down ; 

That  gave  due  course  to  a  thousand  rills, 
That  clothed  in  beauty  vill  and  town; 


62  GREENWOOD. 

* 

That  piled  on  high  yon  ocean  wave 
To  dash  it  headlong  to  the  shore; 

And  grand,  to  Earth's  creation  gave 
Sweet  life,  and  hope,  and  golden  store ! 

4 

Down  on  the  distant  past,  in  vain 
We  look  that  hazy  landscape  o'er, 

To  trace  a  foot -print,  on  the  plain, 
Of  saint  and  sage  who've  gone  before. 

5 

Unchanged,  the  heavens  are  blue  as  then, 
The  sun  as  bright  in  beauty  shines ; 

But  where  are  now  the  sons  of  men, 

That  basked  of  yore  beneath  these  pines  ? 

« 

Alas !  and  where 's  the  favorite  lad 


A   LAY   OF   LOVE.  C3 

That  swung  beneath  yon  branchy  bowers?27 
The  day -dawn  hailed  him — now,  made  sad, 
The  vales  are  deep  in  fading  flowers. 

7 

Up  there  upon  that  self- same  tree 

To  the  red -breast  plaintive,  all  day  long, 

List !  list  that  nole  so  fond  and  free, 
That  song  for  loved  ones,  absent,  gone. 

8 

Is  it  to  me,  sweet  vocal  bird, 

Kind  heaven  sends  a  message  down? 

A  lay  of  love,  a  kindly  word? — 
That  song  indeed  is  not  thine  own ; 

9 

Not  thine  my  inmost  heart  to  move 
To  memory  fond  or  mental  pain ; 


64  GREEXWOOD. 

JSTot  thine  to  sing  of  life,  or  love, 
Or  joys  we'll  never  see  again. 

10 
Ah !  whence  such  power  to  move  a  tear 

To  fall  forbidden  where  I   stand? 
From  what  we  see  and  feel  and  hear, 

There  is  another,  better  land;  — 

11 
I  see  it  in  the  cloud  above, 

The  sun,  and  moon,  and  glittering  star; 
In  the  vast,  unnumbered  worlds  of  love, 

That  move  in  grandeur  near  and  far. 

13 

I  feel  it  in  a  heart  that  beats 
A  god -like  purpose  day  by  day; 

A  soul  that,  while  I  sleep,  repeats 
A  dream  of  glory  far  away ;  — 


THE   RESURRECTION.  05 

• 

13 

I  hear  it  whispered  in  the  air, — 

From  the  worm  that  takes  the  vernal  wing, — 
In  the  quaking  earth,  I  hear  it  there, — 

That  death  shall  resurrection  bring ; — 

14 

I  trace  it  in  the  vesper  mild, 

The  voice  of  songsters  in  the  vale, 

That  God  who  sweeps  the  forest  wild, 
His  rolling  thunders  tell  the  tale. 

15 

Afar,  bright  breaks  a  morning  ray 

To  tint  creation's  glorious  noon ; 
Hail !  hail  that  vast  triumphant  day, 

Beyond  the  terrors  of  the  tomb. 

16 

For  aye  as  now,  let  Greenwood  lend 


06 


GREENWOOD. 


Sweet  inspiration,  light,  and  love  1 
In  beauty,  earth  and  sky  to  blend 
Forever,  true  to  the  God  above. 


LITTLE    NED. 

[An  incident  at  the  grave.] 


the    highlands    of   Hartland,    unheeded, 
alone, 

There    lived  yet    in    sorrow  a    widow  and 
child  ; 

Her  son,  true  and  valiant,  had  wandered  from  home, 
For  his  country  had  called  him  to  the  "  wilderness  " 
wild. 


As  well  as  the  matron,  he'd  loved  little  Ned, 
Who  had  seen  but  five  winters  of  the  world  and 
its  throng; 


68  LITTLE    NED. 

But  that  son  is  at  rest,  his  brave  spirit  hath  fled, 
And  home  from  the  field  they  have  borne  him 


3 

And  now  from  the  valley,  the  parish  and  vill, 
The  peasants  have  gathered,  are  gloomy  in  care  ; 

A  prayer  hath  ascended,  and    down  from    the  hill, 
They  stand  by  the  grave,  waiting  tenderly  there. 

4 

There  lowly  the  dead  lies  lowered  to  rest, 

Where  the  sere  leaves  of  Autumn  embellish   the 

ground  ; 
Where   the  wild  -  bird   shall   warble    a  song   of  the 

blest, 

Where  Spring  shall  weave  garlands,  and  love  will 
abound. 

6 

Devoutly  impressive,  the  service  is  said, 


SEES   THE    SEXTON.  69 

While    naught   could    that    mother    from  weeping 

restrain  ; 

Still  drowned  in  deep  wonder  there  stood  little  Ned, 
Yet  heedless,  retentless  of  sorrow  or  pain. 

6 

He  eyed  the  old  sexton,  when  gently  he  laid 
The  dust  to  its  kindred,  half -held  at  control; 

Then  a  clod  on  the  coffin  fell  down  from  the  spade, 
And  it  startled  the  boy  to  the  depths  of  the  soul . 

7 

"  Old  man,  you  must  stop  it,  I  '11  kill  you,  (he  cried,) 
If  you  bury  my  brother  in  such  a  deep  hole." 

His  fist  high -uplifted,  with  looks  that  defied  — 
Then  wailing,  he  fell,  and    convulsively  sighed. 

s 

Grief,    grief  like    a   night -cloud    o'ershndowed    the 
ground, 


70  LITTLE    NED. 

Bemoaning  and  sighing  were  heard  in  the  air, 
The  men  and  the  maidens  were  kneeling  around, 
And  tears  fell   like   rain -drops — but   not  in  de- 
spair. 

9 

For  the  great  God  in  heaven  is  Father  of  all, — 
Bereaves  but  to  cherish,  assauges  the  pain ;  — 

The  valiant  may  perish,  like  the  sparrow  may  fall, 
Yet  brother  with  brother  shall  meet  once  again. 

10 
There  gazing  I  stood,  and  thought  of  the  end, — 

Of   strange  unbelievers, — of  what   they  pretend; 
The  proof  is  within  us, — deny  if  you  can, — 

There  is  in  that  infant  the  soul  of  a  man  ! 

11 

The  sexton  was  dumb,  his  spade  stood  at  rest ; 
The  priest,  glancing  upward,  broke  silence  to  say 


SORROW  AT   SUNSET.  71 

A  word  of  condolence,  then  kindly  addressed 
A  brief  benediction,  and  the  train  turned  away. 

12 
The  shades  are  beclouding  the  sun -set  afar, 

As  the  dark  -  clad   procession  moves  slow  up  the 

hill; 

The  breath  of  bleak  autumn  and  the  whirlwind  of  war, 
Full  felt  in    their   garments,  are   frosty  and  chill. 

13 

There  is  heart -stricken  sorrow  in  Hartland  to  night, 
But  the  morning  will    come  with  sweet  promises 

fair; 

The  earth -clods  have  covered  the  hero  from  sight, 
Yet    there's  hope  still  in    God,  there  is   truth  iu 
his  care. 


HARK!    'TIS    A    VOICE! 


ARK !  't  is  a  voice,  the  voice  of  spring, 


brings  glad  tidings  on  the  wing 


Of  songsters  far  and  nigh ! 
It  wakes  to  life  the  highland  grove,2 
Entrancing  me  with  tranquil  love, 
And  glory  from  on  high ! 

ii 

That  voice,  serenely  soft  and  clear,— 

Proclaiming  sunny  seasons  near 

And  winter  now  no  more, — 
Bespeaks  another,  better  clime, 


OF  THE   SONGSTERS.  73 

Of  flowery  fields,  of  days  divine, 
And  treasures  there  in  store. 

in 
Why  came  ye  thus,  brave  little  bird? 

What  promised  joy,  what  winning  word 

Of  love  or  curious  cunning, 
Hath  called  thee  forth,  both  mate  and  throng, 
Triumphant  with  angelic  song, 

In  vast  convention  coining ; 

IV 

As  if  for  aye  to  faith  inclined, 
Forever  proud  of  partner  kind, 

Judicious  in  selection;  — 
As  if  to  teach  the   lesson,  how 
Ye  never  violate  a  vow 

In  conjugal  affection? 

v 

Near  now  again,  from  lea  or  lawn, 


74  HARK  !    'T  IS   A   VOICE  ! 

Ye  break  mj  slumbers  at  the  dawn 

In  kindly  visitation; 
I  know  ye  have  a  home  to  seek, 
Some  favored  native  nook  unique, 

Some  scheme  in  contemplation. 

VI 

Still,  have  ye  not  a  nobler  end, 
To  trace  a  comrade  or  a  friend, 

Or  foot  -  print  hidden  hither  ? — 
Where  slumbers  still  some  kindred  tribe, 
Before  the  flood  that  lived  and  died, 

That  calls  ye  here  together;  — 

VII 

Some  queen  or  king,  in  sacred  song, 
That  sang  these  "  banks  and  braes  "  along, 

In  sight  of  old  Tisquantum ;  ^ 
Or  hither  at  a  later  day, 


OF   THE    PILGRIMS.  75 

That  chanted  loveliest  life  away, 

With  warblings  wild  and  wanton ;  — 

VIII 

Where,  then,  at  morn  or  eventide, — 
With  Pilgrim  life  in  all  its  pride 

Of  holiness  from  childhood, — 
Alike  in  love  and  admiration, 
They  worshiped  God  with  adoration 

Here,  in  their  native  wild -wood. 

IX 

Ah !  what  enchantments  thus  ye  bring 
Of  memories  dear,  to  which  I  cling, 

Down  from  the  far  -  gone  year  !  — 
Of  sweet  remembrances,  my  own, 
Of  darling  aspirations  flown ; 

And  yet  ye  bring  them  near. 

x 
Sweet  little  "  tenant  of  the  sky," 


76  HARK  !    'T  IS   A   VOICE  ! 

In  thee  our  duty  we  descry, — 

And  how,  in  life's  expansion, 
Out  from  this  world's  wild  winter  day, 
Made  free,  like  thee,  we'll  wing  away 
On  high  to  make  a  mansion. 


THE  WOOD -THRUSH. 

[REPROOF  AND  THE  REPLY.] 
Scene  at  the  door,  June  9,  1864. 

MATRON  Wood -Thrush  built  a  nest, 
And  then  sat  down  to  take  her  rest ; 
While  sitting  there  upon  her  eggs, 
A  snare  was  tethered  to  her  legs! 

Ye  heartless  dogs  that  did  the  deed, 
Shall  rue  it  for  your  cruel  greed, 

To  cheat  and  rob  the  feathered  tribe 
Of  eggs,  and  all  they  have  beside ! 

To  them,  as  favorites  from  above, 
To  rove  the  air,  to  live  and  love, 


78  THE    WOOD -THRUSH. 

To  cheer  all  nature  with  a  song, 
Both  life  and  liberty  belong. 

This  bird  by  no  means  injured  you ; 

With  her  or  hers  you  'd  naught  to  do ; 
Cursed  be  the  heart,  the  hand,  the  twine, 

That  steals  away  that  right  divine ! 

Such  right  most  dear,  your  mother  knows ; 

When  to  her  ear  this  story  goes,  — 
She'll  make  ye  dance  upon  ye'r  pegs 

With  the  "  ile  of  birch  "  about  the  legs. 

In  caution  kind,  a  lesson  take;  — 
Oh,  never  prove  yourself  a  rake ! 

But  live  to  learn,  and  try  to  make 
The  world  more  happy  for  your  sake. 

{Little  Herman.)      We   never   touched  your  birds. 
We  didn't  —  we  didn't  do  it. 


TALK   AT   THE    DOOR.  79 

(Hennie.)     We  never   did  it. 

(Leslie.)  No  siree;  we  didn't  do  it;  we  were 
not  there. 

(Little  Amy.}  Oh,  no,  sir!  It  wasn't  Hermon, 
nor  Hennie,  nor  Leslie.  They  never  hurt  the 
dear  little  birds.  I  guess  it  was  Sam  Slender- 
grass.  They  say  he  used  to  be  up  to  such  tricks ; 
and  /think  it  is  just  like  him. 

Brave  little  boys!  'tis  joy  to  learn, 
Such  crime  and  cruelty  you  spurn ; 

'T  was  not  by  you  that  deed  was  done ; 
I  ask  your  pardon — every  one. 

(Little  H.  with  dignity,  and  crowding  both  hands 
into  his  pockets.)  Well — we'll  pardon  ye. 


*  To  the  praise  of  the  boys,  except  as  above,  the  birds  here  have 
remained  undisturbed.  The  Oriole  now  inhabits  a  nest  near  our 
window ;  and  the  little  sparrow  returns  in  spring,  and  fearless  as  ever, 
feeds  upon  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  the  hands  of  its  little  friend  at  tlie 
door. 


LITTLE  MARY  TO  THE  BIRD ! 


Nov.  10,  1866. 


OME  again,  my  little  sparrow; 
Autumn  whistles  drear  at  last ; 
You'll  be  absent  on  the  morrow, 
Absent  then  to  shun  the  blast. 


Who  will  care  for  thee  to-morrow, 

Downward  lonely  to  the  sea, — 
In  the  haze  of  heart -felt  sorrow, — 


*Mid  the  dangers  on  the  lea? 


WHO    WILL   FEED   THEE?  81 

3 

When  thy  wings  are  wandering  weary, 
What  kind  hand  will  point  the  way 

Over  highlands,  bleak  and  dreary; 
Who  will  feed  thee,  far  away? 

4 

Years  returning,  thou  hast  sought  me, 

Glad  in  summer 's  cool  retreat ; 
Best  of  all  the  birds,  I've  loved  thee, 

Friendly,  fondly  at  my  feet. 

6 

Here  I  've  listened  oft,  delighted  • 

With  thy  languid,  tender  lay ; 
E'er  to  me  so  strongly  plighted, 

Dear  and  dearer  every  day. 

6 

First,  upon  the  tree -top  shady, 


82         LITTLE  MARY  TO  THE  BIKD. 

Perched,  I  saw  thee,  truly  blest ; 
Cozily  beside  thy  lady, 
Happy  in  a  little  nest. 

7 

But  the  fowler,  or  some  weasel, 
Wicked,  did  that  union  sever; 

Lone,  it  left  thee  on  the  hazel, 
Sad,  forgetting  sorrow  never. 


Now  the  icy,  bleak  November 

Comes  to  drive  thee  far  from  me ; 

Long  will  I  thy  love  remember, 
Far  my  blessings  follow  thee. 

9 

Mother  says  there's  One  above  us, — 
One  that  kindly  cares  for  all ;  — 


Thus   discoursed  my  little    Kary 
With  her  pet  that  cloudy  day. 
When  the  winds  were  howling  dreary. 
When  the  wee-bird  v; 


SPARE    THAT   SPARROW .  83 

From  a  world  unseen,  that  loves  us, — 
Will  He,  heedless,  let  thee  fall? 


10 


Thus  discoursed  my  little  Mary 
With  her  pet,  that  cloudy  day; 

While  the  winds  were  howling  dreary, 
When  the  wee -bird  went  away. 


11 


Heaven  protect  and  spare  that  sparrow, 

With  paternal  tender  care, 
From  the  cruel  sportsman's  arrow, 

From  the  hawk  and  hidden  snare  ! 


u 


Ne'er  may  dire  disease  annoy  him, 
Nor  miasma's  poisoned  breath ; 

Let  no  viper  vile  decoy  him 

To  the  yawning  jaws  of  death;  — 


84  LITTLE   MARY   TO   THE     BIRD. 

1 

Save  him  hence  from  mental  sorrow, 
Mad  misgivings,  dread  despair; 

From  forebodings  of  the  morrow, 

While  he  wanders  through  the  air;  — 

14 

While  he  flits  above  the  billow, 
Driven  by  storm  beyond  the  glen; 

Sad  at  midnight  on  the  willow, 
Spare  that  little  sparrow  then ! 

15 

Let  some  darling  daughter  bid  him 
Welcome  to  a  shady  shore,  — 

Give  him  crumbs, — thus  Mamie  fed  him 
Down  beside  the  kitchen  door;  — 

16 

Absent  only  while  the  daisies 


LET    HIM    LIVE.  85 

Drooping  lifeless,  still  remain; 
From  that  land  of  many  mazes, 
Let  him  live  to  come  again. 

D 
17 

Older  grown,  yet  we'll  be  younger, 
When  old  winter  wanes  away,  — 

When  his  icebergs  fall  asunder, 
Giving  place  to  a  golden  day. 

18 

Bring  us  back  our  days  of  childhood, 

Happy  hence  as  then  to  be; 
Yet  the  warbler,  in  the  wild -wood, 

Is,  they  say,  more  blest  than  we. 

19 

Bear  us  upward,  Great  Jehovah, 

On  the  pinions  of  thy  wing !  — 
Then  shall  winter  days  be  over;  — 

Give  us  there  an  endless  Spring ! 


NEVER    HUNCH  I 


WO  little  boys  I  call  to  mind, 
The  one  was  selfish  Harry, — 
The  other  generous  Johnnie  Lynde ; 
At  school  they  had  been  tutored  kind, 
But  Harry  would  be  Harry. 


One  day  reproof  broke  forth  aloud, 

The  teacher's  brow  was  stormy ;  — 
A  word  from  Johnnie  calmed  the  cloud, 
"I  never  hunch — if  Harry  crowd! 
Have  mercy,  mercy  for  me ! " 


GIVE   HEED  !  87 

» 
Ye  men,  that  toil  'neath  sun  and  cloud 

For  favor,  fame  or  money ;  — 
If  of  the  past  ye  would  be  proud, 
Ye  '11  never  hunch  if  Harry  crowd, 

But  wisdom  learn  of  Johnnie. 

4 

Of  saint  or  sage  to  truth  inclined, 

That  tread  the  pathway  thorny, 
What  hero  brave  of  nobler  mind, 
What  better  Christian  can  ye  find 

Than  darling:  little  Johnnie? 


NULLIFICATION. 


S.  C.  Act,  Nov.  27,  1832. 

"  Do  you   plunge  into   Niagara  with  the   expectation  of  stopping 
half-way  down."—  Webster. 

A  WORD  TO  JEFF.     Feb.  28,  1865. 


1ES,  Jeff,  you  tried  in  thirty-two 
To  navigate  that  mighty  deep; 
But  Jackson  bluffed  the  frail  canoe, 
And  turned  aside  your  craven  crew, 
Going  down. 


SECESSION.  89 

II 

Prophetic  !  —  yet  how  true  the  thought ! 

That,  launched  on  treason's  crimson  flood, 
Which  mad  ambition  sordid  sought, 
Your  craft  and  crew  would  both  be  brought 
To  the  bottom  down. 

in 
In  spite  of  patriots,  great  and  good, 

Secession  strange,  relentless  comes  ;  * 
Their  warning  words  misunderstood, 
Again  embarked,  you  're  on  the  flood 
Going  down. 

IV 

Out  from  the  slave  -  code's  flagrant  rules, 
Which  breed  the  tyrant  foul  in  crime ; 
From  treason  tutored  in  your  schools, 
In  mass  sprang  forth  confederate  fools, 

Going  down. 
*  The  Ord.  of  Secession  was  passed  in  South  Carolina  Dec.  20, 1800. 


90  NULLIFICATION. 

V 

But  when  you  neared  the  cragged  rock, 

Above  the  dark  abyss  below  ; 
You  sought  in  vain  to  shun  the  shock, 
And  tried,  through  foreign  aid,  to  stop 
Half  way  down  ; 

VI 

You  cried  for  help,  yet  quite  in  vain, 

From  sympathizing  traitors  here ; 
And  at  Chicago  30  tried  again 
To  hug  the  shore  and  shun  the  pain 
Going  down. 

VH 

Your  Hunters,  too,  31  came  to  implore 
Our  "Father  Abram"  for  relief;  — 
To  lend  his  platform,  plank  or  oar, 
Or  tug  your  cursed  bark  ashore, 
Half  way  down. 


RECESSION.  91 

VIII 

But  Abram  heeded  not  the  talk, 

Nor  could  he  make  that  crime  his  own ; 
The  God  of  Nature  floods  the  rock, 
Against  His  laws  you  ne'er  can  stop 
Half  way  down. 

IX 

Beware  !    'T  is  death  you  now  discern 

Still  further  on  the  fearful  way ; 
Doomed  there  to  dash  the  breaker  stern, 
Where  now  the  rolling  billows  turn 
Going  down. 

x 

What  if  old  England  press  the  shore, 

Or  France  embark  to  intervene 
With  friendly  aid  ?  —  they  've  tried  before,  — 
Still  louder  will  that  torrent  roar, 
Going  down. 


92 


NULLIFICATION. 


XI 


Yes,  Jeff,  too  late !  by  sad  reverse 

You  learn  indeed  how  vain  the  thought 
To  stop  Niagara's  mighty  force, 
Or  stay  God's  judgments  in  their  course,  - 
Half  way  down. 


AN"    ALLEGORY. 

WASHINGTON,    OCT.    4,    1863. 

SQUIRREL,  gray  at  infant  age, 
On  earth  began  a  pilgrimage ; 
Inspired  without  pre- admonition, 
Unlettered  in  the  world's  condition, 
Untaught  of  Satan,  sin  or  strife, — 
A  stranger,  on  the  verge  of  life, — 
Without  a  forethought  coming  here, 
Or  agency  in  such  career. 
Yet  he  had  vigor  well  defined, 
An  ardent,  patriotic  mind  ;  — 
Had  thought  and  taste  for  worldly  weal, 


94  AN   ALLEGORY. 

In  grief  or  joy  a  heart  to  feel. 
His  lot  had  fell  in  northern  climes, — 
'Mid  brave  old  oaks  and  peaceful  pines, 
'Mid  gentle  zephyrs  blowing  pure, 
Where  nature  kind  gave  promise  sure 
Of  sweet  content.     To  him  the  light 
Of  sun  and  moon  and  stars  of  night 
Looked  glorious ;  and  earth  and  skies 
Seemed  but  his  own  —  a  paradise. 
Of  house  and  home  he  had  no  lack,  — 
Had  acorns  plenty, — nuts  to  crack, — 
Had  nectar  sweet  in  the  morning  dew, 
And  aught  of  care  he  never  knew. 

"With  what  he  saw  of  beast  or  bird, 
He  had  no  conflict,  not  a  word; 
Nor  did  a  snare  beset  his  track, 
Nor  cruel  man,  nor  howling  pack. 


BONDAGE.  95 

In  sight  of  beauty,  bounty,  wealth, 
His  breast  beat  high  in  hope  and  health  ; 
He  roamed  the  woods  and  knew  no  end, 
On  every  tree -top  found  a  friend ; 
To  live  he  loved,  and  felt  as  free 
As  Squirrel  ought  of  right  to  be. 

Replete  in  boundless  comforts  here, 
He  journeyed  on  from  year  to  year ; 
Till,  in  temptations  evil  time, 
Allured,  he  left  his  native  pine 
Through  vain  desire.     High  on  the  rocks, 
There  laid  in  wait  an  open  box. 
He  ventured  in;  —  thought  no  mishap, — 
Alas !  alas  !  a  hunter's  trap 
Had  caught  him  fast ! 

'T  was  prudence,  then, 


96  AN   ALLEGORY. 

To  court  contentment  in  a  pen — 
No  use  to  gnaw — or  make  a  muss ! 
Most  wisely  squirrel  reasoned  thus, — 
Became  a  pet,  and,  sold  anon, 
Was  borne  away  to  Washington, 
Where  many  a  philanthropic  sage 
Beheld  him  cornered  in  a  cage, 
Admired  his  feats,  deplored  his  fate, 
But  did  not  help  him  from  the  grate. 

Still  round  and  round  he  turned  the  wheel, 
And  through  long  years  began  to  feel 
The  pangs  that  flow  from  life  misspent,  — 
A  broken  heart  and  discontent. 

At  length,  one  day  from  the  southern  sky, 
A  storm  arose ;  the  gales  blew  high, 
And  burst  the  door  of  the  wiry  grate, 


FREEDOM.  97 

That  hung  beside  the  garden  gate. 

Then  from  the  cage,  through  shrub  and  tree, 

O'er  hedge  and  fences,  frantic  free, 

He  bounded  forth ;  yet  sought  in  vain 

To  find  his  native  air  again. 

Next  day  from  church,  while  passing  down 
Beside  the  highway  of  the  town, 
I  saw  a  tree,  —  and  noted  how 
A  squirrel  trembled  on  the  bough ; 
How  men  and  boys,  in  motley  crowd, 
With  barking  dog,   and  threatenings  loud, 
Hurled  brick-bats  dire,  through  branch  and  bud 
To  thrust  him  out  and  shed  his  blood. 
While  one  a  leader  seemed  to  be, 
With  club,  full  half-way  up  the  tree, 
To  strike  him  down ;  and  all  for  naught ; 
'Twas  thus  the  fugitive  they  sought. 


AN   AIuLEGOEY. 

I  turned  and  said,  —  [they  stopped  to  hear,] 

"Young  men,  you  know  not  what 'you  do! 
Why  seek  that  squirrel's  life,  as  dear 

To  him  to-day,  as  yours  to  you? 
He  is  no  trespasser  in  fault 

On  anything  of  yours  to  feast ; 
No  culprit  vile  to  make  assault 

On  life  or  limb  of  man  or  beast ; 
But  fain  in  fairness  would  endeavor 

Sweet  life  and  freedom  here  to  save. 
These  gifts  of  nature,  dear  forever, 

It  is  but  just  for  him  to  crave. 

He  holds  a  heart  in  love  as  true, 
That  beats  as  high  in  hope  or  fear; 

Can  feel  a  pang  as  well  as  you, 
Or  in  affliction  drop  a  tear. 

His  eye  can  scan  what  you  intend, 


MORAL.  99 

A  foe  in  every  movement  see; 
Yet  would  he  greet  you  as  a  friend, 
Were  man  but  just  and  kind  as  he." 

"That's  so,"  said  Jo;  "I  plainly  see!" 
And  down  he  lumbered  from  the  tree ; 
The  dog,  he  saw  himself  to  blame, 

And  dropped  his  shaggy  tail  in  shame ; 

/ 

The  guilty  throng,  having  naught  to  say, 
Clung  to  their  clubs,  but  went  away. 

Down  on  the  trunk,  now  feeling  free, 
The  squirrel  chippered,  greeting  me 
With  grateful  noddings ;  as  it  were, 
He  kindly  said, — "I  thank  you,  sir!" 
From  thence  a  park  became  his  home, 
To  wander  on  through  life  alone ; 
Yet  oft  whene'er  I  go  that  way, 


100 


AN    ALLEGOKY. 


It  moves  me  much  to  hear  him  say, — 
Still  nodding  down  from  the  branchy  fir,  — 
"I  thank  you,  sir! — I  thank  you,  sirl" 


OF    WASHINGTON    CITY. 

A  letter  to  a  little  Miss,  May  17,  1862. 

DOMESTIC    AND   DESCRIPTIVE. 

AVING  written  to  Caddie,  I  must  not  forget 
A  message  to  Mary,  my  proud  little  pet, 
Still  waddling  and  wandering  from  parlor  to 
kitchen, 

Then  out  round  about,  pursuing  a  chicken, 
Or  down  in  the  garden  for  some  little  notion, 
Or  up  in  the  arbor,  forever  in  motion, — 

To  gaze  at  the  shadows  now  moved  by  the  breeze, 
And  chanting  with  birds  as  they  sing  in  the  trees,  — 


102  OF   WASHINGTON    CITr. 

Oft  peeping  at  beauties  that  Nature  discloses, 
And  bringing  to  mother  some  sweet -smelling  posies. 

Just  now,  little  lady,  I  wish  you  were  here 
To  see  many  strange  things,  surprisingly  queer, 
Some  grand  and  majestic,  some  novel  and  pretty, 
All  in  and  about  the  wide  Washington  city. 

Here  sits  the  proud  soldier,  the  first  that  you  meet, 
On  horseback,  full  armed,   at  the  turn  of  the  street ; 
JNow  near  him,  behold,  oft  repeating  a  song, 
-A.  "grinder,"  for  pay,  pulls  a  monkey  along. 

Then  up  the  broad  Avenue,  at  every  street  crossing, 
•Some  poor  little  orphan  a  broomstick  is  tossing ; 
With  one  hand  extended,  from  Johnnie  or  Jennie, 
You'll  hear  the  sad  call,  —  Please,  give  me  a  penny. 
We  reach  the  rotunda,  the  pride  of  the  nation, 
It  opens  a  view  to  the  works  of  creation  ; 


IN    SIGHT   OF   DIXIE.  103 

From  its  lofty  corridors  are  wonders,  you  know, 
The  Washington  monument  westward  below ; 
Artful  in  beauty,  vast  buildings  abound, 
Of  granite  and  marble  majestic  around. 

Still,  far  in  the  distance,  as  fancy  delights, 

Are    Georgetown,    Fort   Ellsworth,    and.   Arlington 

Heights ; 

A  mansion  sequestered,  the  homestead  of  Lee, 
Who,  at  the  cost  of  a  fortune,  a  rebel  could  be. 

Down  there  is  "old  Dixie,"   in  treason  and  wrong, 
With  a  Wise  and  a  Letcher  to  help  her  along. 
Wide  above  the  Potomac,  on  the  highlands  afar, 
Are  the  white  -tented  armies  and  breastworks  of  war. 

We  wake  to  their  music; — far  distant  it  trills, — 
From  war-trump,  and  bugle,  it  breaks  from  the  hills 


104  OF   WASHINGTON   CITY. 

Iii  strains  strange  and  varied,  above   dread   alarms. 
It  brings  to  our  bosoms  the  breath  of  its  charms. 

Still  here  are  the  bodies  of  Congress  in  session, 
For  the  law  of  the  land,  to  give  it  expression  ; 
In  duty  to  rancorous  rebels,  to  rub  'em, 
And  down  on  the  "  traitors  "  in  hatred  to  snub  'em.  ^ 

Next  note  the  "Old  Castle,"  alive  as  it  stands, 

'T  is  the  home  of  a  tribe  of  the  late  contrabands ; 

They  have  fled  from  the  foe,  from  the  land  of  op- 
pression, 

Their  chains  are  all  broken,  't  is  the  fruit  of  secession  ; 

Tis  the  key-note  of  peace,  the  bright  dawn  of 
salvation  — 

'T  is  the  great  God  of  heaven  who  ruleth  the  nation  ! 

Now  down  from  the  dome  we  wend  our  way  back ; 
There 's  many  a  strange  straggler  invading  the  track, 


GIDDY   THRONGS.  105 

Great  groups  of  "street  loafers  "  in  loud  conversation, 
The  odds  and  the  ends  of  a  live  Yankee  nation. 

Here  swaggers  the  sailor,  of  late  come  to  land, 
Here,  too,  is  old  Sambo  with  whip  in  his  hand  ; 
Here's  Dinah  with  fruit  and  with  cakes  made  to  sell, 
lint  for  what  other  purpose  no  mortal  could  tell. 

Here 's  a  rude,  noisy  newsboy,  in  haste  rushing  in ; 
To  sell  you  the  "  Storr  "  and  the  "  Re-pub-li-kin  ;  " 
If  he  talks  of  a  battle  or  a  vote  at  election, 
How  can  ye  believe  him,  so  full  of  deception? 

Do  not  wonder,  in  rambling,  if  you  chance  to  behold 
A  faithful  "  old  servant,"  that  used  to  be  sold  ; 
A  tall,  limping  negress,  with  all  of  her  charms, 
In  the  ca"re  of  her  baby,  borne  along  in  her  arms ; 
Some  queer  little  donkey,  or  grave  looking  mule, 
On  his  journey  down  South,  as  they  say,  to  keep  school. 


106 


OF   WASHINGTON    CITY. 


But  evening  approaches,  no  more  can  l>e  seen, 
By  reason  of  night  -  shades  that  now  intervene ; 
Good-bye,  little  Mary,  with  blessings  adieu! 
Farewell,  to  the  household,  as  well  as  to  you. 


BULL   RUN. 

July  19,  1861. 

HISTORICAL. 


constant  cry  of  do  or  die, 
[On,  on  to  Richmond  was  the  shout,] 
Evinced  the  spirit  of  metal  and  merit 
To  stamp  the    rebellion  out. 

The  mass,  all  right,  were  full  of  fight 

Abram  the  people  heeded; 
But,  sad  for  us,  to  quell  the  muss, 

A  marshal  chief  was  needed. 


108  BULL    RUN. 

With  soldiers  drilled,  and  squadrons  filled, 

A  move  at  length  was  ordered  ; 
With  Scott  at  the  head,  McDowell  led 

The  loyal  army  onward. 

Up  at  Bull  Run,  the  battle  begun, 

'T  was  ours  for  every  reason ; 
But  Johnston  came  and  "blocked  the  game,"  — 

They  caUed  it  "Patter's  treason."33 

Fresh  troops  combined  against  the  line, 

And  turned  the  tide  of  battle ; 
Both  horse  and  foot  reeled  round  about, 

In  broken  ranks  "  skeedaddle." 

Our  strong  reserve  had  little  nerve 

To  stay  the  massive  numbers ; 
It  lacked  the  spunk  (for  Miles  was  drunk,) 

To  do  such  ma<ric  wonders. 


THE    RETREAT.  109 

Too  much  the  foe  had  suffered  now, 

To  follow  up  his  chances, 
Never   a  force  was  frightened  worse, 

Save  panic  stricken  Yankees. 

And  yet  they  fly ;  and  in  the  sky 

Are  rumblings,  roar  and  rattle ; 
Far  down  the  way,  wide  scattered,  lay 

Mixed  implements  of  battle. 

The  Congressman,  ah  !  how  he  ran  I 
And  the  London  Times 8*  benighted ; 

'T  would  make  you  laugh,  to  see  such  chaff 
So  fearfully  excited. 

O'er  dell  and  ridge,  and  through  Long  Bridge, 

They  urge  their  way  in  masses ; 
Both  black  and  white,  in  equal  fright, 

Among  the  mules  and  asses. 


110  BULL    BUN. 

At  Washington,  they  all  had  come, 

Exposed  to  every  slander; 
And  little  Mack  was  ordered  back, 

To  be  their  next  commander. 

He  drilled  the  troop,  and  cheered  high  hope, 

In  manners  most  inviting ; 
Favored  of  fame,  he  tried  to  train, — 

Brave  in  all — but  fighting. 


When  the  smoke  disappeared  from  the  battle-ground, 
An  officer  over  that  field  rode  round ; 
And  finding  a  "run-aivay"  hid  iu  a  hole, 
Beseechingly  prompt  he  sought   ;i  parole, — 
But  heuid  no   answer, — 


THE    SKULKER.  Ill 

"March   back,"   said   the   Chief,    "to  your   rightful 

ranks  ! 

And  away  with  all  of  your  cowardly  pranks  ! " 
The  soldier  returned  neither  bullet  nor  blows, 
But  sneeringly  touched  his  thumb  to  his  nose, — 
Exclaiming,  —  (as  if  to  a  clown  or  an  elf,) 

"  No,  you  do  n't, 
Old  fellow,  you  want  this  hole  yourself  1 " 


Nov.  7,  1861. 


NAVAL  fleet  comes  next,  to  greet 
The  ear  of  patriots  loyal ; 
Old  Dupont  leads  to  daring  deeds 
In  battle,  at  Port  Royal. 

It  had  to  brave  the  winds  and  wave, 

In  most  terrific  action ; 
And  many  a  sail  by  storm  and  gale, 

Were  driven  to  distraction. 


THE    STORM    AND   THE    CONFLICT.  113 

Clear  out  of  sight,  when  fearful  night 

Had  left  the  lofty  ocean, 
All  of  that  host  were  deemed  as  lost, 

Save  one  old  ship,  in  motion. 

Yet  all  but  one,  still  upward  borne, 

The  angry  tempest  weathered ; 
And  each,  in  time,  wheeled  into  line, 

In  battle  order  gathered*. 

Now,  on  the  way,  they  reach  the  bay, 

All  in  a  circle  forming, 
While  many  a  sail,  with  iron  hail, 

The  troubled  town  are  storming. 

What  murderous  dash,  the  fire  and  flash 

Of  war -ships,  belching  thunder 
On  fiery  forts,  whose  rough  reports 

Explode  their  guns  asunder ! 


114 


DUPONT    AT    PORT 


From  boast  and  brag,  they  strike  their  flag, 

AVhich  Yankees  are  assailing; 
In  fearful  doubt,  they  skulk  about,  — 

The  federal  force  prevailing. 

So  goes  the  field,  the  weak  must  yield 

To  stronger  pulse  and  power ; 
By  a  giant  blow,  as  rebels  know, 

They  are  weakened  every  hour. 


THE  LIGHT   OF    THE  WORLD 
'     INSPIRES    HOPE. 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  May  10,  1862. 


IS  Sabbath  morn,  and  man  is  quiet, 
The  sun  emits  congenial  rays ; 
%"    All  things  on  earth  are  moving  by  it, 
Rejoicing  in  a  thousand  ways. 

I  hail,   with  joy,  that  king  of  light, 
The  Author  of  this  vernal  morn ; 

Whose  genial  rays  "exclude  the  night," 
And  foster  life  in  every  form. 


116  THE    LIGHT    OF  THE    WORLD 

Fit  emblem  of  a  Sovereign  Power, 

Who  holds  the  spheres  high  at  command ; 

Whose  unexhausted   blessings  shower, 
From  day  to  day,  o'er  all  the  land. 

Great  Parent !  grant  us  brighter  beams 
Of  light,  refulgent  from  Thy  Throne  I 

And  let  a  nation's  fettered  dreams 
Awake  to  freedom,  yet  unknown  ! 

Dispel  that  crimson,  lowering  cloud, 
Now  pendant  o'er  the  world  around ; 

Forgive  the  sin  that  cried  aloud, 

Like  Abel's  blood,  up  from  the  ground. 

Thy  justice  frowns,  the  nations  weep; 

Thy  power  shall  break  the  tyrant's  chain ; 
O  teach  us  faith,  contrition  deep, 

And  bring  us  back  to  Thee  again ! 


INSPIRES    HOPE.  117 

In  Thine  own  time,  great  King  of  grace ! 

We  '11  hail  Thy  coming  from  above ; 
Descending  through  the  clouds  apace, 

In  healing  beams  of  Peace  and  Love. 


THE    MONITOR. 

March  9,  1862. 

[The  first  appearance  of  a  Monitor  at  sea,  was  eventful  in  the  his- 
tory of  naval  battles.  The  war -ship  Merriraack  had  appeared  at 
Hampton  Roads,  had  sunk  the  Cumberland,  had  overcome  the  war- 
ship Congress,  and  had  stranded  the  Minnesota  when  night  came  on. 
Early,  next  morning,  the  Monitor  came  to  the  conflict,  assailed  and 
crippled  the  Merrimack,  and,  thereby,  the  Federal  craft  were  saved 
from  impending  destruction.] 


EAR  Fort  Monroe,  a  startling  blow 

Was  struck  with  much  disaster 
To  the  naval  fleet; — it  was  a  feat 

Of  trial  to  be  master. 
Old  Merrimack,  just  from  the  dock, 


AT   THE    CONFLICT.  119 

Came  clad  in  iron  armor ;  — 
The  Cumberland,  though  strongly  armed, 

And  Congress,  could  not  harm  her; 
And  the  Minnesota  belched  her  quota 

Of  ponderous  shot  to  smash  her, 
But  quite  in  vain,  such  end  to  gain, 

No  naval  force  could  thrash  her. 
Her  bolted  side  did  but  deride 

The  cannon's  belching  thunder, 
As  if  all  craft  of  Yankee  draft, 

Were  but  a  stupid  blunder. 

Not  far  away,  coming  down  the  bay, 

Our  Monitor  advances  ;  — 
Say, —  what  is  that? — "'tis  a  chaze"  cries  Pat, 

As  at  the  craft  he  glances. 
Mysterious  bark  !  't  was  not  an  ark, 

Nor  ship  of  huge  dimension ; 


120  THE    MONITOR. 

But,  in  their  view,  a  mere  canoe, 

Of  "  yankeedom  "  invention. 
At  once  they  pour  a  thunder  shower 

Of  shot  and  shell  upon  it ; 
But  all  in  vain,  that  fearful  aim 

Makes  no  impression   on  it. 
It,  nearing,  brings  some  weighty  things,  — 

A  dose  for  a  rebel  dinner,  — 
And  dealt  in  squibs,  that  broke  the  ribs 

Of  the  iron -plated  sinner. 

Such  heavy  hail  soon  made  her  quail, 

And  swim  for  other  quarters  ; 
*Twas  of  no  use  for  such  a  goose 

To  try  to  rule  these  waters. 

Night  bears  away  a  gloomy  day 

To  the  crippled  confederation ; 
Down,  over  that  vale,  it  tells  a  tale 


THE    RESULT.  121 

Of  death  and  consternation. 
While  North  it  bore,  the  rattle  and  roar 

Of  the  trumpet  rehearsed  the  story, 
And  high  o'er  the  world,  the  old  Flag  unfurled, 

Fair  freedom,  God,  and  glory ! 


THE    DREAM. 


Washington,  May  12,  1862. 


TO   LITTLE    C. 


,-£>•»  YE  thought  of  thee  when  far  away,  — 


Have  dreamed  of  home ;  —  and  light  and 


Thy  little  feet,  as  e'er  before, 
Seem  patting  all  about  the  floor. 


And  here,  as  there,  when  cares  invade, 
And  seize  upon  this  heart  and  head,  — 


THE    DREAM.  123 

O  who  could  now  my  spirit  win, 
But  little  "Caddie"  coming  in? 

3 

If  pain  or  panic  filled  the  frame, 
Or  fever  burning  on  the  brain, 
What  then  could  calm  the  soul  within? 
'T  was  little  Caddie  coming  in. 

4 

When  noisy  war  or  fearful  fight 
Brings  darkness  sad  in  a  dream  at  night, 
What  sight  pr  sign  doth  then    beguile? 
Tis  that  bewitching  little  smile. 

5 

Or,  when  'mid  buried  joys  I  roam, 
In  direst  thought,  bereaved,  alone, 
What  can  assuage  my  sorrow  keen? 
O  list !  that  little  voice,  serene. 


124  THE    DREAM. 

6 

In  vision  bright;  it  brings  good  cheer 
From  home  and  hearts  forever  dear, 
And  teaches  wisdom,  kindness,    love, 
As  by  an  angel  from  above. 

7 

Sweet  vision  !  —  lost  in  early  day  I 
Life,  like  a  dream,  doth  wane  away ; 
I  wake  to  scan  the  journey  o'er, 
Earth's  genial  joys  to  join  no  more, — 

8 

Yet,  far  away,  in  a  spirit  sphere, 
Still  glancing  backward,  homeward  here, 
O,  then,  unseen,  I'll  thee  beguile, 
And  greet  my  "Caddie"  with  a  smile. 


ARLINGTON. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


Washington,  D.  C.,  having  been  the  great  central  point  between 
two  mighty,  contending  powers  of  the  four  years'  rebellion,  has, 
within  it,  and  around  it,  many  tragic  as  well  as  historical  points  of 
interest.  But  the  brief  Epic  which  succeeds  this  note  has  special  ref- 
erence to  but  one  of  them;  and  that  one  becomes  significant,  mostly 
as  one  of  its  many  results. 

It  is  now  the  4th  of  March,  1869.  The  conflicts  of  past  years  are 
beginning  to  be  ignored,  and  the  great  American  General  is  inaugu- 
rated to  the  Presidency.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  we  take  the  railway 
for  Georgetown,  and  thence  proceed  on  foot  to  visit  "  Arlingt  n 
Heights."  On  the  high  bridge  above  the  Potomac,  we  make  a  mo- 
ment's pause ;  the  waves  are  rolling  beautifully  beneath  me ;  the  sky 
above  is  serene,  and  the  sun  is  beginning  to  fall  below  the  hills 
On  my  left,  to  the  east  of  the  river,  at  the  distance  of  two  miles, 


126  ARLINGTON. 

Washington  City,  now  made  alive  by  a  hundred  thousand  strangers, 
with  its  stately  edifices,  lofty  Capitol,  and  Goddess  of  Liberty,  looms 
up.  On  my  right,  to  the  westward  of  this  "  Modern  Jordan,"  about 
the  same  distance  from  it,  standing  in  plain  sight,  are  "  Arlington 
Heights,"  crowned  by  the  antique  mansion  of  the  late  rebel  General 
Lee,  suiTounded  by  spacious  groves  of  Oak,  and  literally  made  white 
by  the  sepulchral  urns,  or  insignia  of  upwards  of  20,000  soldiers, 
brought  from  the  neighboring  battle  fields  of  the  rebellion.  As  we 
pass  from  the  bridge  at  Georgetown  up  to  and  over  that  city  of  the 
dead,  objects  of  intense  interest  present  themselves,  and  leave  an  im- 
pression not  easy  to  describe,  nor  soon  to  be  forgotten. 

DEDICATION. 

To  the  SURVIVING  ARMIES  of  the  Republic,  this  "  Walk  within 
the  Shades,"  is  respectfully  inscribed  —  by  the  Author. 


ARLINGTON. 


A    WALK    WITHIN    ITS    SHADES. 


jj.\)]^-OTOMAC  rolls  her  fountains  down, 
Deep  gliding  'neath  the  shades  that  crown 

My  theme  of  contemplation ; 
While  night  begins  to  chase  away 
The  living  throngs  and  proud  display 
Of  the  great  inauguration. 

High  now  above  her  waters  mild, 
I  stand,  and  list  the  lingerings  wild 
Of  a  Nation  in  commotion ; 


128  ARLINGTON. 

Yet  heedful  how  the  hand  of  God 
Moves  all  the  kingdoms,  as  a  flood, 
To  a  deep,  unbounded  ocean. 

Here  I  survey  the  hight  of  lands, 

Where,  thronged  with  towers,  bright  beaming  stands 

The  stately  dome  of  Washington ; 
While  westward,  on  the  other  side, 
Beyond  a  tearful  Jordan  tide, 

Stand  high  the  shades  of  Arlington. 

To  Arlington  my  foot -steps  tend; 
Now,  turning  hence,  I  meet  a  friend, — 

Inquire  the  distance  to  it; 
He  answers,  lifting  high  his  staff, 
"To  Arlington?  —  a  mile  and  a  half, — 

Near  night,  ye  can  not  do  it. 

"The  road  is  down  the  river  shore, 
Then,  further  on  a  mile  or  more, 


THE   SPECTER.  129 

Ye  '11  take  the  gateway  on  it ; 
Then  far  above,  'mid  light  and  shade, 

Ye  '11  find  the  fields  of  valiant  dead, 

i 

Eternal  there  upon  it. 

w  Go  back,"  he  said,  "  and  take  the  day ; " 
Untimely  specters  haunt  the  way, 

When  night  lets  fall  her  curtain ; 
There,  where  rebellion  rose  at  first, 
Where  slavery,  doomed  of  God,  was  cursed, 

They  strangely  stroll,  uncertain. 

'  'T  is  said,  they  hold  sepulchral  care, 
Seraphic  in  attendance  there, 

Above  the  stars  high  standing ; 
Then,  silent  in  the  murky  night 
Descending,  oft  emitting  light, 

Their  golden  wings  expanding.  " 


1 30  ARLINGTON. 

"Why  care,"  said  I,  "for  ghost  or  elf? 
Plow  soon  ye  '11  turn  to  one  yourself, 

More  worthy  of  your  minding." 
The  sun  beyond  the  hills  had  gone; 
The  stranger  turned,  and  I  trudged  on, 

Along  the  right  bank  winding. 

Then,  on  the  right  hand,  I  behold 
A  hill  that  glitters  white,  like  gold, 

The  day -dawn  dwells  upon  it; 
Up  thither,  winding,  bent  with  care, 
Instinctively,  my  brow  is  bare 

To  rise  sainted  soldiers  on  it. 

Here,  side  by  side,  kind,  nobly  laid, 
The  rebel  and  the  loyal  dead 

Rest  equally  together ;  ** 
No  vain  distinction  gilds  the  gloom, 


THE   INSCRIPTION.  131 

Nor  pomp,  nor  pride  invades  the  tomb 
That  holds  the  hero  hither. 

Half  halting,  'mid  the  sainted  throng, 
In  the  pebbled  path  I  pass   along 

At  the  foot  of  the  soldier  sleeping ; 
Life's  noblest  history,  brief  and  brave, 
I  trace  it,  lettered  on  the  grave 

In  careful,  kindest  keeping. 

Grand,  grateful  record !  true  to  tell, 
Both  where  he  fought  and  where  he  fell 

In  battle  for  the  nation  ; 
As  well  the  daring  he  had  done, 
As  well  where  once  he  had  a  home, 

His  name,  his  rank  and  station. 

And  this  is  all.     Vain  wealth  may  try 
To  rear  her  monuments  on  high, 


132  ARLINGTON. 

In  gorgeous  grandeur  clever; 
But  where  the  balmy  woodlands  sigh, 
And  the  dead  are  equal  far  and  nigh, 

Rest — rest  is  sweeter,  never! 

We  pass  them  by,  six  thousand  here, 
Still  further  on  to  persevere, 

To  the  gateway  thither  going ; 38 
Then  up  a  winding  way  to  wend, 
'Mid  aged  oaks,  whose  branches  bend 

To  the  breeze  of  heaven  blowing. 

Spacious,  majestic,  leafless  now, 

"Dame  Nature,"  true,  had  taught  them  how 

To  stand  a  wintry  trial ; 
Yet,  faithful,  still  to  tell  us  how 
Each  honored  leaf,  each  brave  old  bough 

Is  fraught  with  self-denial. 


THE    DIRGE.  133 

Cool  now  the  zephyrs,  pure  and  light, 
Begin  to  play  the  dirge  of  night 

In  strange,  enchanting  chorus ; 
And  every  step  that  leads  us  on 
Awakes  to  thought, — "companions  gone,** 

They  glide  in  groups  before  us. 

While  oft  that  distant  day -dawn  hill, 
Back  through  the  tree -tops  gleaming  still, 

Looms  up  in  prospect  thither ; 
There,  earth  and  sky  in  sorrow  meet, 
Yet  do  they  hold  communion  sweet 

In  tranquil  love  together. 

Up,  now  we've  reached  a  giant  oak; 
My  guide  beginning,  briefly  spoke, 

An  incident  expounded  ;  — 37 
How  Scott  came  up  to  talk  to  Lee, 


134  ARLINGTON. 

How  neighed  his  steeds  beneath  this  tree, 
As  if  a  war -trump  sounded, 

They  listened  wild  !     How  long  he  staid 
By  reason,  prayerful,  to  dissuade 

From  purpose  vain,  infernal, 
That  rebel  chief;  and  how,  anon, 
He  left  him,  deep  in  thought,  alone, 

With  a  sad  good -night,  eternal. 

Then  coy,  adown  the  woods  away, 
Lest  treason,  lurking,  might  betray 

Him,  homeward  from  the  mansion. 
How  then  the  Rebel  sat  all  night, 
Pale,  pondering  till  his  candle  light 

Died  out  in  day's  expansion. 

And  how,  at  length,  ambition's  sway 
Preponderating,  paved  the  way 


THE    SLAVE  -PEN.  135 

'Gainst  reason  to  demur, 
Misled  him  thus ;  and  then  his  home, 
Vast,  proud  in  wealth,  to  fame  far  known, 

Became  a  sepulcher. 

Thus  talked  the  guide.     Still  higher,  then 
We'd  passed  the  cook-house,  and  the  pen 

Where  once  the  slave  in  sorrow 
Had  tugged  and  toiled  his  journey  through ;  — 
Unfettered  freedom  never  knew, 

Yet,  hopeful  of  the  morrow, 

Had  prayerful  lived  a  languid  life ; 
Weaned  of  the  world  and  worn  of  strife, 

Earth's  toils  unpaid  had  slain  him.  * 
Dread  then  the  wrath  of  God,  for  sin 
In  fearful  judgments  fell  on  him 

Who  had  the  heart  to  chain  him. 


136  ARLINGTON. 

Eternal  frosts,  with  deadly  blight, 

i 
From  the  heavens  above,  fell  down  that  night, 

When  Lee  took  marching  orders ; 
Sweet  fields  no  more  could  bloom  to  bear, 
Nor  tender  vine,  with  vintage  rare, 

Had  growth  within  these  borders. 

Then  a  crimson  cloud,  like  fire  and  hail, 
Swept  o'er  the  world !     Dread  storm  and  gale, 

Brought  conflicts  unexpected ; 
And  ere  the  skies  had  ceased  to  frown, 
These  garden  walls  came  crumbling  down, 

No  more  to  be  erected. 

From  thence  decay,  in  broad  expansion, 
Like  rancorous  rust,  invades  the  mansion,  — 

Its  proud,  plantation  glory ; 
And  nought  is  left  of  former  days, 


THE    NIGHT-WATCH.  137 

Save  the  boding  owl  that  hoots  her  lays 
In  grief,  to  tell  the  story. 

We  've  reached  the  highlands,  passed  the  brow, 
Amid  the  shade -trees,  opening  now 

To  another  field   impressive  ;  ^ 
In  sight  of  thirteen  thousand  more, 
Alike  in  order  as  before, 

There  gallant  graves,  successive, 

Loom  up,  in  boundless  whiteness  shone, 
And  far  and  near,  erect,  alone, 

The  night-watch  stands  on  duty; 
While,  on  the  way  to  vill  and  town, 
Sweet  stars  came  up,  when  the  sun  went  down, 

They  twinkle     bright  in  beauty. 

Still  near  me,  on  the  left,  behold, 

Two  thousand  more,  their  names  untold, 


138  ARLINGTON. 

Together  hither  slumber ; 
No  native  hamlet,  house  nor  home, 
Nor  loved  one  kind  to  earth  is  known, 

Of  all  their  sainted  number. 

Strangers,  indeed !  but  no  less  brave 
In  brunt  of  battle,  there  they  gave 

Sweet  life  to  treason's  havoc ; 
From  bleakest  bloody  fields  they've  come, 
Out  from  the  shades  of  old  Bull  Run, 

And  down  the  Rappahannock. 

Immortal !  yet  at  peace  for  aye, 
Earth  has  a  treasure  'neath  this  clay, 

Alike,  she  hath  no  other; 
For  here  her  bravest  sons  are  laid, 
And  here  a  nation's  tears  are  paid,  — 

Each  heart  hath  here  a  brother. 


THE    MEMORIAL.  139 

And  here 's  a  meek  memorial  stone, 
Bedecked  with  cannons  high,  alone, 

On  guard,  in  grandeur  common ; 
They  Ve  thundered  loud  the  vales  along, 
Have  blazed  in  battle  brave  and  strong, 

But  now  keep  silence  solemn. 

Brisk  blow,  ye  bleak  winds,  'bove  the   brow, 
Enchant  the  oaks  for  aye,  as  now, 

Breathe  mild  and  balmy  whispers  ; 
The  prowess  of  Earth's  noblest  braves, 
From  the  nether  skies  in  plaintive  praise, 

Bring  harps  and  holy  vespers  I 

And  higher  let  creation's  cares 
Inspire  the  spheres  to  vocal  airs, 

For  deeds  of  noble  daring ; 
That  a  giddy  world  may  learn  and  know, 


140  ARLINGTON. 

While  countless  ages  come  and  go 
True  valor,  thus  declaring.  *° 

But  who  are  these,  meandering  slow, 
In  sable  garments,  bending  low, 

Of  spirit  burdened,  blighted, — 
Deep  in  the  fields  at  shaded  urn, 
Or  down  the  way,  as  if  to  learn 

A  lesson,  here  benighted? 

In  truth,  'tis  but  the  ties  of  love, 
The  hapless,  hopeless  heart  doth  move, 

Allures  it  while  it  wanders ; 
Far  from  a  cabin,  prairie  home, 
An  aged  father  here  hath  come,  — 

Beneath  a  tree  he  ponders. 

And  further  still  in  the  branchy  glade, 


THE    PRAYER.  141 

Where  many  a  valiant  son  is  laid, 

A  mother  finds  an  altar — 
Is  kneeling  low — I  heard  her  prayer; 
'.Neath  northern  skies,  she  came  from  there, 

Yet  had  no  heart  to  falter. 
Down  from  that  care  that  cradled  him, 
A  vital  spark  doth  burn  within, — 

The  God  of  nature  gave  it ; 
Come  life  or  death,  'tis  true,  the  same, 
At  the  grave  it  kindles  to  a  flame,  — 

Our  dear  old  mothers  have  it. 

Still  deeper,  'neath  the  shades  between, 
A  daughter  pale  is  wandering  seen, 

A  lad  alone  attends  her ; 
And  there,  above  a  mossy  mound, 
A  household  name  at  length  is  found ; 

Sad  thought  begins  to  rend  her. 


142  ARLINGTON. 

Much  more,  the  boy  inclines  to  talk, 
For  he  with  the  father  used  to  walk — 

We  list,  the  little  lisper, — 
Imploring  the  maid  with  mien  sincere, 
"  My  papa !  does  he  know  I'm  here  ? 

I  thought  I  heard  him  whisper ! " 

Ah !  is  it  true  the  dead  at  rest, 

With  tenderest  thought  and  knowledge  blest, 

Still  heed  our  wayward  walking? 
Though  strange  to  earth,  God  knows  it  well, 
How  many  truths  a  child  may  tell, 

Whene'er  you  hear  him  talking. 

T  is  late  !     The  groups  have  left  the  ground, 
As  they  were  wont  at  daylight  down, 

Who'd  firmer  steps,  yet  faster; 
btill  lingering  long,   inclined  to  abide, 


THE    WIDOW'S    DOG.  140 

A  lady  and  her  dog  beside, 
The  widow  of  his  master. 

And  now  I  turn  to  look  at  Tray, 

A  tale  we'd  heard  of  him  one  day, — 

[T  was  no  unfounded  tattle  ;] 
How  firm  he'd  followed,  prompt  and  warm, 
Close  to  his  master,  'mid  the  storm 

That  shook  the  field  of  battle ;  — 

How  the  master  fell  at  one  of  the  rounds,  — 
Then  how  he  licked  his  dying  wounds, 

And  then  laid  down  beside  him ;  — 
And  when,  next  day,  they  buried  him  low, 
Old  Tray  refused  away  to  go ; 

In  truthful  trust  abiding. 

'T  was  long — 'twas  many  a  trial  day, 
Ere  the  lone  widow  found  her  way 


144  ARLINGTON. 

To  the  field  of  dread  disaster ; 
Dark,  humid  nights  of  storm  and  hail 
Had  intervened-     And  she  grew  pale, 

Yet  came  to  find  the  master. 

Long,  long  she  wandered,  none  could  tell 
Where  the  hero  laid  nor  where  he  fell, 

And  daylight  was  departing ; 
While  tearful,  thence  to  turn  away, 
She  heard  a  voice, — 'twas  the  same  old  Tray, 

He  hailed  her  howling,  barking ;  — 

The  instinct  of  his  nature  rare, 

His  head  was  high  to  the  tainted  air, 

As  if  in  expectation ;  — 
His  eye,  his  ear,  his  faith  expressed, 
He  ran,  he  flew  to  greet  the  guest 

To  hail  her  visitation. 


THE   SALUTATION.  145 

Three  times  he  crouched  upon  the  ground, 
And  three  times  more  he  made  a  bound, 

Then  whining,  told  the  story; 
And  then  he  turned,  and  led  the  way, 
Where  did  her  hidden  treasures  lay,  — 

The  end  of  earthly  glory. 

Cold  were  the  curtains  overhead, 
And  cold  the  clods  that  bent  his  bed, 

Above  the  master's  ashes ; 
Yet  there,  when  Tray  laid  down  again, 
A  ray  of  hope,  from  the  heavens  it  came, 

Beneath  a  cloud  it  flashes  ! 

Great  God  of  grace,  of  love  profound, 
Could  we  to  Thee  as  true  be  found, 

Thy  frown  we'd  never  fear  it; 
Dread  war  hath  waned,  the  years  go  by, 


1 16  ARLINGTON. 

That  treasure  still  is  hidden  nigh, 

And  the  widow's  dog  stands  near  it. 41 

Then  next  we  come  to  a  crumbling  stone, 
Brave  names  are  here,  historic  known, 

Of  ancient  men  and  mothers  ! 42 
Deep  in  the  wild -wood,  there  is  one, 
Oood  "Mary  Kandolph  Washington," 

Afar  from  all  the  others. 

'Twas  but  the  choice  that  love  provokes, 
To  dwell  in  the  midst  of  crowded  oaks, 

Whose  branches,  exemplary, 
Strive  but  to  weave,  as  the  years  go  round, 
A  hedge  in  the  heavens,  a  wreath  profound, 

In  honor  true  to  Mary. 

Within  huge  walls,  at  Heaven's  will, 
While  ages  roll,  't  is  Mary  still,  — 


THE    ANGELS.  147 

No  trespassers  offend  her ; 
An  awful  spell  pervades  the  woods ;  — 
In  spite  of  war,  or  storm,  or  floods, 

The  wood-nymphs  proud,  attend  her. 

I  list  to  hear  them  in  the  trees 
With  angels  talking,  true  to  please, 

Down  from  that  world  above  her; 
From  there  are  spirits  whispering  nigh, 
I  hear  them  as  the  gales  go  by, 

In  the  failh  of  friend  and  lover. 

How  beauteous  is  the  gateway  here, 
That  leads  from  earth  to  heaven,  so  near, 

It  meets  my  finite  vision ; 
It  spans  the  whirling  spheres  afar, 
The  midnight  moon,  the  shooting  star, 

That  lingers  in  transition. 


148  ARLINGTON. 

I  see  it  above  the  distant  day, 
The  northern  lights,  the  milky  way, 

Grand,  glorious  in  reflection  ! 
Pervading  the  shades  that  night  hath  found, 
Through  the  vaulted  sky,  bespangled  round, 

Sweet  dawn  in  God's  perfection  ! 

Oh,  Father  Jove  !  in  whom  we  live, 
We  hail  thy  presence !  and  we  strive 

To  bring  Thee  true  oblation; 
For  this  indeed  is  hallowed  ground, 
Indeed,  our  pilgrim  feet  have  found 

Thine  earthly  habitation ! 

Spare  us  !     To  Thee,  O  lead  us  near, 
No  more  to  wander  in  a  sphere 

Of  warfare,  or  of  weeping ; 
Earth's  fearful,  fatal  fetters  break, 


AT   THE    GATE.  149 

Abundant  in  Thy  grace,  O  take 
Us  to  Thy  kindly  keeping ! 43 

Weary,  the  guide  inclines  to  go, 
Meandering  through  the  woods  below, 
Stands  at  the  gate,  is  beckoning  now, 

Expostulates,  me  pondering; 
Turning,  advancing  at  command, 
With  more,  than  thanks  I  fill  his  hand, 
While  silence  reigns  o'er  all  the  land, 

To  me,  home  wandering, 

Sedate,  impressed  ;  while  now  and  then, 
A  siren  voice  invades  the  glen, 
A  peaceful  prayer,  a  trite  amen, 

Goes  up  to  the  gracious  Giver ; 
And  though  the  Owl  is  moping  still, 
And  Death  is  dreadful  on  the  hill, 


1 50  ARLINGTON. 

God's  candle  lights  the  heaven's  fill; 
They  burn  upon  the  river. 

Back,  o'er  its  winding  waters  deep, 
Where  lives  a  Nation,  left  to  weep, 
With  giddy  throngs,  I  fell  asleep 

From  care ;  at  rest,  reclining, 
Yet  dreamed  of  what  the  heart  may  know, 
What  makes  for  weal,  what  makes  for  woe, 
Of  Earth's  uncounted  ills,  that  flow 

From  Satan,  and  from  sinning;  — 

Wandering,  and  yet  to  faith  inclined, 
Drowned  deep,  o'erwhelmed  in  darkness,  blind ; 
Awake  at  morn  —  'tis  sweet  to  find 

What  grace  alone  can  give  us ! 
The  clouds  of  night  away  had  whirled, 
The  king  of  day  stands  o'er  the  world, 


IN  PEACE. 

Ten  thousand  banners  float  unfurled, 
And  the  God  of  heaven  is  with  us  I 


151 


THE 


BRIDE  OF  BURTON, 

VICTORY, 


OTHER    POEMS. 

BT 

ROBERT  B.   CAVERLY. 

THREE    VOLUMES    IN    ONE. 
VOL.  U. 


ft 

MY     NEIGHBOR     AND     FRIEND, 

ELIAS  NASON, 

ELOQUENT  AND  PROFOUND  ; 

VALIANT  IN  FAITH,  TRUTH,  AND  CHARITY; 

THIS  VOLUME 
18  BESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED. 

R   B.   C. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  BURTON. 


"Chocorua*  goes  to  the  Great  Spirit;  his  curse  stays  with  the  white  man! 
The  prophet  sank  upon  the  ground  still  uttering  inaudible  curses.  And  there 
they  left  his  bones  to  whiten  in  the  sun."  ['Pronounced,  Chec-cor-ruah.] 


HE  tired  hounds  at  length  are  sleeping, 

- 


over  our  tent,  wild  night  is  weeping 
Dark  dews  in  the  Burton  wood  ; 

While  from  her  distant  radiant  fountain, 
The  queenly  Moon  lights  up  the  mountain, 
Where  brave  Chocorua44  stood. 
157 


THE   BRIDE    OF   BURTON. 
XL 

To  this  the  ills  of  earth  had  brought  him, 
Twas  here  the  white  man  sought  and  fought  him, 

In  daring,  dashing  numbers; 
From  whence  despair  had  deigned  to  dwell, 
Chocorua  wounded,  faltering  fell, 

And,  here  in  death  he  slumbers. 

m. 

Entranced  beneath  thy  cragged  peak, 
Creation  vast ! — thy  summit  bleak, 

Thy  varied  vales  I  ponder; 
I  reverence  Him  who  shaped  the  hills, 
These  silvery  lakes,  those  glittering  rills, 

Wild,  in  a  world  of  wonder ! 

rv. 

Up  'neath  the  stars,  yon  glimmering  slope, 
Piled  range  on  range,  they  fill  the  scope 
158 


CHOCOEUA    AND    HIS    TRIBE. 

Of  man's  enchanted  vision  5 
Bold  there  above  a  heaving  sea, 
For  aye  to  vie  in  majesty, 

Earth's  grandest,  proud  position  I 

v. 

Life  and  its  joys  Chocorua  sought, 
His  tribe  he  trained,  as  Nature  taught, 

Mild  in  these  magic  mountains; 
With  bow  and  arrow  known  of  yore, 
Vast  wood -lands  wild,  he  hunted  o'er, 

Dame  fed  him  at  her  fountain. 

VI. 

Of  what  wild  waters  yield,  in  view, 
Chocorua  launched  his  light  canoe 

On  many  a  rapid  river; 
Fierce  falcons  faltered  in  the  air, 
And  the  wild  deer  bounded  from  his  lair 

At  the  rattle  of  his  quiver. 
159 


THE   BRIDE    OF   BURTON. 

vn. 

From  boyhood  brave,  a  priest  he  roved; 
Faithful  at  heart  he  fervent  loved 

Keoka,  ne'er  to  sever; 
No  happier  pair  could  earth  produce, 
Keoka  true — and  a  proud  pappoose 

Inspired  that  wigwam  ever. 

VUL 

"With  truth,  and  trust,  and  patient  pride, 
At  morn  —  at  noon  —  or  eventide, 

She  calmed  the  cloudy  hour; 
Her  heart  was  full  of  love  and  song, 
She  cheered  Chocorua's  life  along, 

She  brought  him  many  a  flpwer. 

DC. 

Such  was  the  life  Chocorua  sought, 
Such  were  the  charms  Keoka  brought, 
160 


HER    CASKET    AND    TOMB. 

Unselfish,  unpretending ; 
Kings  of  the  earth,  I'd  envy  not, 
Give  me  to  know  Chocorua's  lot, 

Such  faith,  such  favor  blending  1 

x. 

Soon  then,  alas !   sad,  fatal  years, 
That  moved  heroic  hearts  to  .tears, 

Fell  heavy  on  Pequawket; 
Dread  death,  that  brought  Keoka  blind, 
Had  mazed  Chocorua  in  his  mind, 

The  tribes  began  to  talk  it. 

XI. 

Of  rushes  rude  they  made  her  shroud, 
In  crooked  form  a  casket  proud, 

And  laid  her  in  the  wild-wood, 
Beside  a  rippling  river  shore, 
Where  many  a  song  and  dance  of  yore, 

Had  cheered  her  happy  childhood. 
161 


THE    BEIDE    OF   BURTON. 


Six  logs  laid  high  on  either  side, 
Embraced  they  hold  that  sainted  bride, 

With  a  rail-made  roof  around  her; 
Deep,  calm  at  rest,  devoid  of  fears, 
Of  loves  —  of  hopes  —  or  tender  tears, 

Where  first  Chocorua  found  her. 

xin. 

A  white  flag  fluttered  in  the  air, 
Sweet  stars  from  heaven  glittered  there, 

And  the  zephyrs  came  to  love  her; 
Deep  wood -lands  whispered  sighs  unknown, 
The  plaintive  pines  their  loss  bemoan, 

And  the  wild  rose  creeps  above  her. 

xrv. 

Ten  times  a  day  Chocorua  wept; 
Ten  times  a  day  his  shadow  swept 
162 


Ten  times  a  Jav  Chcooma  •sropt.    • 
Ten  times  a  day  Ins  shadow  swep', 
In  pUxmy  form  around  i.e.r. 


CHOCOKUA    AT    HER   GRAVE. 

In  plumy  form  around  her; 
The  partridge  fluttered  from  his  trail, 
And  the  she-wolf  nightly  heard  his  wail, 

To  a  troubled  trance  it  bound  her. 

xv. 

Where'er  he  turned,  where'er  he  roamed, 
Or  when  around  the  grave  he  mourned, 

There,  prompt  and  true  to  mind  him, 
His  little  lad  with  lifted  eye, 
As  if  to  hail  that  mother  nigh, 

Tripped  on,  and  stood  behind  him. 

XVI. 

'Twas  thus  Chocorua's  heart  was  pressed, 
Long  months  moved  on,  but  gave  no  rest, 

Sad  thus,  dread  fate  had  made  it! 
Still  there  is  grief  as  yet  unknown, 
"One  trouble  never  comes  alone," 

Our  dear  old  mothers  said  it. 
163 


THE   BRIDE    OF   BTJKTON. 

xvn. 

Next,  then  indeed,  how  true  it  proved! 
Another  fate  as  fortune  moved 

Came  cruel  quite  as  t'other; 
By  hidden  drugs,  in  malice  made, 
Alas !  that  darling  boy  is  dead, 

To  moulder  with  his  mother. 

XVlll. 

Then  wailed  Chocorua  wilder  still, 
Without  a  heart,  without  a  will, 

A  ghost-like,  lurking  wonder; 
Yet  in  his  flesh  there's  native  fire, 
Though  earth  and  hell  in  crime  conspire 

To  drive  that  soul  asunder. 

XIX. 

As  now  the  story  oft  is  told, 
Chocorua  cursed  the  English  old, 
For  deeds  unholy,  certain; 
164 


CHOCOBUA   IS    SLAIN. 


And  ever  since,  from  then  to  this, 
Not  a  breath  of  hope,  nor  breeze  of  bliss, 
Hath  moved  the  woods  of  Burton. 


Dark  shadows  came  to  chase  the  sun, 
The  Indian  hunter's  day  was  done, 

And  the  wood-lands  wild  were  sighing ; 
'Twas  then  a  shaft  his  heart  had  broken, 
Vengeance!   the  eternal  fates  betoken; 

Chocorua    is   dying. 

XXI. 

On  that  dread  night  and  hitherto, 
The  heavens  let  fall  malarious  dew, 

Far  down  these  murky  mountains; 
Not  a  flower  in  all  the  waste  is  known, 
The  maple  leaf  is  dry,  half-grown, 

And  death  is  in  the  fountains. 
165 


THE    BRIDE    OF    BDRTOif. 
XXII. 

The  moping  owl  hath  ceased  to  hoot, 
The  scmb  oak  falters  at  the  root, 

And  the  snail  is  lank  and  weary; 
The  fated  fawn  hath  found  his  bed, 
Huge  hawks,  high  flying,  drop  down  dead 

Above  that  apex  dreary. 


Faded,  the  vales  no  fruits  adorn, 
The  hills  are  pale  with  poisoned  corn, 

The  flocks  are  lean,  repining  ; 
No  growth  the  panting  pastures  yield, 
And  the  staggering  cattle  roam  the  field, 

Forlorn,  in  death  declining. 

xxiv. 

'Tis  thus  we're  made  the  slaves  of  earth, 
Mope  in  miasmas,  deep  in  dearth, 
Sad,  from  some  bad  beginning; 
166 


THEY   COME   IN   THE   CLOUDS. 

From  cruelty  to  friend  or  foes, 
Our  morbid  pains  and  mental  woes, 
Prove  but  the  pangs  of  sinning. 

XXV. 

High  now  a  voice  is  in  the  air, 
As  if  Chocorua  still  were  there, 

With  wood-nymphs  wild  attending; 
'Tis  heard  far  up  the  mountain  side, 
That  plaint  of  Earth's  down-trodden  tribe, 

Bleak,  with  the  zephyrs  blending. 

xxvi. 

O,  God,  forgive  our  Saxon  race ! 
Blot  from  thy  book,  no  more  to  trace, 

Fraternal  wrath  infernal; 
That  taints  the  atmosphere  we  breathe, 
The  sky  above,  and  earth  beneath, 

With  dearth  and  death  eternal! 
167 


THE    BEIDE    OF    BUBTON. 
XXV 11. 

Come,  boys,  we'll  take  our  tents  away 
To  better  vales: — 'tis  break  of  day, 

And  the  hounds  are  awake  for  duty; 
Blow,  blow  the  horn,  a  gracious  sun 
Hath  brought  a  brotherhood,  begun, 

In  life,  in  love  and  beauty. 
168 


THE  PET  CANARY. 


little  Lilla45  fed  the  bird, 
Her  lovely  pet  canary, 
And  many  a  song  and  tender  word 
Inspired  the  busy  dairy; 


And  daily  oft,  to  see  the  pet, 

The  school-mate  wanders  hither, 

To  learn  how  hearts  congenial  met, 
Have  "lived  and  loved  together." 
169 


THE    PET    CANABY. 
3 

For  whom  sweet  June  had  spread  her  flowers, 
Had  furnished  fruitful  treasures; 

And  wanton  wild -birds  from  their  bowers, 
Brought  lovely  magic  measures. 

4 

Ah !  what  a  change  a  day  hath  done ! 

There's  trouble  on  the  morrow, 
Our   Lilla    dies — her   pet  is    dumb; 

That  home   is  full    of  sorrow. 

5 

Then  when  the  funeral  prayer  is  made, 

In   sainted   sanctuary, 
Down  from  a  cage  upon  the  dead, 

Mute  gazed  that  little  canary — 

6 

Till  when  at  length  the  choir  begun 
Soft  notes  of  sorrow  even; 
170 


LILLA   IN    HEAVEN. 


That  little  heart,  it  swelled  and  sung 
A  song  of  Hope  and  Heaven. 


And  then  alone,  he  sung  a  part, 
A  plaintive   voluntary; 

Ah !  —  how  it  fell  upon  my  heart, 
That  dirge  from  little  canary  I 


We  could  but  see  sweet  Lilla  nigh, 
In  robes  of  light  to  love  us, 

And  for  her  pet  to  breathe  a  sigh, 
From  heaven  high  above  us. 

171 


A  MEMENTO. 


In  THE  ALBUM  OF  MRS.  J.  E.  B.,  SINCE  DECEASED. 


IND  Lady: 

What  though  the  gift  be  meagre  quite, 
Here  in  thy  book  I'll  bear  a  part; 
Fail  as  we  may  in  what  we  write, 
Accept  a  neighbor's  friendly  mite, 
A  truthful  tribute  of  the  heart. 

At  noon  or  night,  at  morn  or  evening, 

Whene'er  ye  read  this  fading  line, — 
For  aye  the  same,  whate'er  the  seeming, 
Fond  memory,  from  mine  altar  beaming, 
Shall  faithful  turn  to  thee  and  thine. 
172 


ONWARD  TO  THE  SEA.48 


T  dawn  while  damp  the  dews  are  falling 
On  men  of  might,  deep  sleep  enthralling, 
The  bugle -note  vast  cohorts  calling, 

Is  breaking  o'er  the  lea; 
'Tis  now  from  vale  and  mountain  wall, 
Our  gallant  horse  and  footmen,  all, 
Are  on  the  march  at  Sherman's  call, 

Far  downward  for  the  sea. 

2 

I  hear  the  train, — I  hear  the  tread, 
Of  brave  battalions  onward  led 
173 


ONWARD    TO   THE    SEA. 

[Yet  not  unmindful  of  the  dead, 

So  sadly  doomed  to  be,] 
O'er  hill  and  dale,  through  vill  and  town, 
Moving  in  mighty  columns  down, 
They  chant  the  praise  of  "  old  John  Brown," 

Far  downward  for  the  sea. 

3 

In  spite  of  saint  or  southern  sages, 
That  took  from  toil  her  honest  wages, 
And  blotted  freedom  from  our  pages, 

Went  forth  the  dread  decree ; 
And  the  mortars  roar  the  roads  along, 
In   skirmish   and   in   battle   strong; 
'Twas  Sherman  bold  avenging  wrong, 

Far  downward  to  the  sea! 

4 

Out  from  Shenandoah's  crimson  cloud, 

From  thunders  breaking  long  and  loud, 

174 


SHERMAN    ON    THE    SEA -SHORE. 

Our  brave  old  Flag  waves  wild  and  proud, 

Brings  signal  ecstacy; 
For  the  trump  of  war  hath  ceased  to  roar, 
Rebellion  lingering,  lives  no  more, 
And  Sherman's  hosts  stand  on  the  shore, 

Of  a  beauteous,  balmy  sea. 
175 


AN  ACROSTIC. 


Exert  thyself;   on  self  alone  depend; 
Let  reason  guide  thee  to  a  hopeful  end; 
Let  Truth  divine,  and  Love  and  Charity, 
In  fervent  faith  thy  measured  motto  be; 
Excuse  no  wrong,  in  Heaven's  pure  light  be  free. 
176 


ON   DIXIE'S  WOOD -LAND. 


SEDGWICK.*7 


N  Dixie's  wood -land  hill  and  plain, 

Where  treason  stalks  in  ghost-like  form, 

The  deadly  mortars  belch  again, 

Earth,  troubled,  quakes  beneath  the  storm. 

Down  on  the  foe  to  battle  led, 

Brave  gallant  legions  fired  of  hope, 

Out  through  the  heaps  of  mangled  dead, 
They  bear  a  nation's  banner  up. 
177 


ON  DIXIES  WOOD -LAND. 

Firm  yet  again,  though  comrades  fall, 
And    undismayed   at  Fate's   decree, 

Onward  they  heed  their  country's  call, 

Their  noble  hearts  shall  make  her  free. 

n. 

Lo !    there,   amidst  the  valiant   slain, 
Is  he  who  bore  that  banner  high 

O'er  many  a  gory  battle  plain, 

Where  "Greek  met  Greek" — met  there  to  die. 

•Clouds  clad  in  crimson  intervene, 

Our  dear  old  flag  is  bending  low 

Where  Sedgwick  fell — the  willow  green 
Trails — weeping  o'er  him  on  the  Po. 

Ah!   'tis  of  earth,  man  can  but  know 
How  truth  eternal,  right  divine, 

Must  from  the  blood  of  martyrs  flow, 
'Tis  wond'rous  wisdom's  vast  design! 
178 


SEDGWICK,   A   NATION  8   CAEE. 

Yet  far  from  fields  of  valor  blest, 

Though  Freedom's  flag  may  rend  in  twain, 
Though  race  and  nation  be  oppressed, 

Shall  not  the  hero  live  again? 

Brave,  noble  spirit! — higher  hence, 
A  leader  in  that  land  of  light; 

What  though  no  traveller  comes  from  thence, 
We'll  hail  thee  there  in  armor  bright. 

ra. 

Go,  ye  that  linger  where  he  fell, 

With  guards  of  honor,  bear  him  thence, 
Yet  pageant  praise  shall  fail  to  tell 

The  general  care,  the  gloom  intense. 

In  vain  the  solemn  organ  trills, 

While  true  to  trust  ye  homeward  come, 
In  vain  the  echo  from  the  hills 

Of  plaintive  airs  and  muffled  drum. 
179 


ON  DIXIE'S   WOOD -LAND. 

And  vain,  indeed,  the  soldier's  shot, 

Or  thunders  breaking  o'er  the  tomb; 

A  nation  weeping  heeds  it  not, 

She  hath  an  impulse  of  her  own. 

IV. 

Rest!   let  him  rest  in  the  high  land  fair, 
Where  golden  sunsets  glow  and  gleam, 

Where  wild  birds  warbling  fill  the  air, 

And  the  pine-tree  whispers  love  serene. 

Oft  here  the  patriot's  heart  shall  burn 
In  mournful  lays,  in  generous  tears, 

And  pilgrim  feet  shall  hither  turn, 

As  come  and  go  the  rolling  years. 

Bring  lilies  sweet,  in  hands -full  bring 
The  rose  in  beauty,  full  in  bloom; 

Bring  garland  flowers  of  grateful  spring, 
And  crown  for  aye  the  hero's  tomb. 
180 


CHEERFULNESS. 


WASHINGTON,  FEB.  13,  1864. 
A  POSTSCRIPT  TO  A  LETTEK,  FOB  A  LITTLE  Miss. 


NOTHER  day 
Is  far  away, 

And  night  again  advances; 
That  law  divine, 
The  march  of  time, 

Is  never  changed  by  chances. 
181 


CUEEBFULNESS. 


But  little  we  know 

How  fast  we  go, 
Or  what  the  aim  or  ending 

Of  the  motley  throng, 

That  plod  along, 
In  word  and  deed  offending. 


Yet  there's  good  cheer, 

My  Mary  dear, 
A  charm  in  the  life  of  childhood  j 

I  bless  the  toys  , 

That  give  thee  joys, 
Long  lost  to  me  in  manhood. 


Let  reason  guide- 
No  ills  betide 
182 


ITS   INSPIRATIONS. 

Gay  juvenile  devotions; 

Sad,  dull  and  drear, 

Would  life  appear, 
But  for  our  childish  notions. 

5 

A  cheerful  mind, 

With  truth  combined, 
And  faith,  without  misgiving, 

Shall  fill  the  page 

Of  riper  age, 
In  useful  life  worth  living. 

6 

From  thence  shall  showers 

Bedeck  with  flowers, 
Thy  path  with  fragrant  beauty; 

And  health  shall  glow, 

And  comforts  flow 
From  cheerfulness  in  duty. 
183 


CHEERFULNESS. 
7 

O,  then  we'll  dare 

To  banish  care, 
Nor  faith  nor  truth  shall  vary; 

And  heaven  at  last, 

For  all  the  past, 
Shall  bless  my  little  Mary. 

184 


UP  THE  KENNEBEC. 


FBOM  LITTLE  MARY— A  SOLILOQUY. 


AURORA  beauteous,  breaking  bright, 

Adorns  the  moving  deck; 
From  the  heavens  afar,  with  golden  light, 

She  paints  the  Kennebec. 
Sweet  birds  of  song,  the  shores  along, 

Their  carols  true  are  calling; 
And  the  duck  and  dove  are  full  of  love, 
Infinity  extolling. 
185 


TIP    THE    KEXNEBEC. 


Made  glad  at  morn,  the  hunter's  horn, 

"Wild,  mellow  windings  take ; 
And  the  hopeful  hound  is  on  his  round, 

Far  up  the  Kennebec. 
I  seek  the  field,  where  lilies  yield 

Their  fragrance  and  their  beauty; 
Where  the  rustic  swain,  for  honest  gain, 

Is  true  to  daily  duty. 


Farewell,  old  Ocean !  pale  yet  proud 

Thy  billows  foam  and  break; 
Rolling  on  high,  and  roaring  loud, 

Ye  greet  the  Kennebec! 
Thine  are  the  depths  of  spacious  dales, 

Of  highlands  lowly  buried, 
The  fallen  leaf  of  autumn  gales, 

Or  waves  from  winter  hurried. 
186 


FKOM   OLD    OCEAN. 


Thy  fountains  deep  are  bright  divine, 

Thy  heavings  have  no  check; 
Thy  tides  eternal,  keeping  time, 

Far  up  the  Kennebec. 
Merry  and  sweet,  the  rills  ye  meet, 

From  misty  mountains  falling, 
They  glide  and  gambol  at  thy  feet; 

They  follow  at  thy  calling. 


Farewell!   we've  launched  our  gondola, 

Fair  founts  above  to  fleck, 
With  cheer  and  chat  and  song  away 

On  the  lovely  Kennebec. 
Up  there  is  Sprague;  he  leads  the  way, 

To  many  a  towering  block ; 
And  Art  is  bending  to  obey 

Her  ancient  Sagadahock. 
187 


UP   THE   KENNEBEC. 


Huge  ships  to  spare,  in  crafty  care, 

Bold  verdant  banks  bedeck; 
For  the  ocean  fair  to  wander  there, 

From  the  busy  Kennebec; 
To  seek  the  ports  of  spacious  Earth, 

Her  traffic  and  her  treasures ; 
To  share  her  gems  of  wealth  and  worth, 

Her  products  and  her  pleasures. 


Bright  is  the  scope  of  love  and  hope, 

Creation  deigns  to  deck! 
They  fill  our  cup  as  we  go  up, 

The  balmy  Kennebec. 
There's  beauty  in  the  mountain  range, 

In  meadow  and  in  mansion 
In  many  a  freak  unfolded  strange, 

Deep  in  the  vast  expansion ! 
188 


OUB  DEAR   OLD   MOTHER. 

8 

Dame  Nature  casts  her  garlands  down 

All  round  us  on  the  deck ; 
While  on  the  hills  she  stands  to  crown 

Her  kindly  Kennebec ; 
Yet  she  hath  care  for  countless  throngs, 

In  earth,  in  air,  and  ocean ; 
And  to  her  constancy  belongs 

The  faith  of  deep  devotion. 


Sweet,  dear  old  Mother!  true  to  tell, 

[We  hail  thy  luring  beck!] 
Our  ancient  Fathers  knew  thee  well, 

Along  the  Kennebec. 
They  had  a  heart  to  love  thee  then, 

Thy  fragrant,  shady  bowers; 
That  beat  as  true  to  God  and  men, 

As  firm  in  faith  as  ours. 
189 


UP  THE   KENNEBEC. 
10 

Translated  they!  thou  art  the  same 

Without  a  spot  or  speck 
To  mar  thy  face,  thy  faith,  or  fame, 

Far  up  the  Kennebec ! 
"We  Thee  adore,"  and  love  thy  lore. 

Thy  bounty  and  thy  beauty; 
As  did  the  Red -man  years  of  yore, 

Here  on  a  hunter's  duty; 

11 

When  naked  at  Thine  altar,  true, 

He  bent  his  beardless  neck, 
And  proudly  launched  his  birch  canoe 

High  up  the  Kennebec; 
Where,  in  the  wild -wood  'neath  a  cloud, 

Or  down  sweet  sunny  waters, 
He  held  dominion,  spacious,  proud, 

O'er  Nature's  sons  and  daughters. 
190 


THE   TRIBES   OF  YOKE. 
12 

Sad,  now  to  tell,  how  the  Chieftain  fell, 

And  the  boat  became  a  wreck! 
How  the  tribes,  of  yore,  were  dashed  ashore 

On  the  troubled  Kennebec ! 
Bright  stars  shall  burn,  and  seasons  turn 

Their  sunny  sides  forever; 
But  ne'er  to  change,  yon  mountain  range, 

Again  shall  know  them,  never! 

13 

No  squaw  her  tranquil  love -song  trills, 

Life's  languid  cares  to  check; 
No  Indian  war-whoop  haunts  the  hills 

That  shade  the  Kennebec ; 
Yet  doth  she  sing  unseen  of  Earth 

In  native  numbers  yonder — 
"The  world  that  gave  the  Red -man  birth 
Can  never  know  him  longer. 
191 


UP   THE   KENNEBEC. 


14 


"  Mine  was  the  tribe  by  the  mountain  side, 

To  nature  true,  I  reck, 
That  wandered  wide  the  wood -land  tide, 

High  on  the  Kennebec. 
I  try  to  trace  them  in  the  sand, 

My  father  and  my  mother; 
Vain,  vain,  I  seek  that  little  band, 

My  sister  and  my  brother! 

15 

• 
"Dear!  dear  to  me! — each  field  or  flood, 

Or  sight,  or  sound,  or  speck, 
Where  roamed  the  sons  of  Robinhood 

On  the  kindly  Kennebec! 
Forgive,  oh  God!  — (we've  felt  the  rod), 

Each  seeming,  sad  complaining! 
Yet  there's  no  place,  to  the  Red -man's  race, 
On  the  shores  of  Earth  remaining!" 
192 


HOME    OF    THE    WHITE -MAST. 
16 

The  Eternal  chime,  that  song  sublime, 

Its  latent  lessons  break, 
Out  from  the  crimson  clouds  of  time, 

That  touch  the  Kennebec — 
True,  soft  and  mild,  in  the  forest  wild, 

And  down  the  rolling  river; 
High  on  the  hills,  deep  in  the  rills, 

It  lives  to  languish,  never! 

17 

Yet  Mother  Dame  hath  other  sons, 

And  daughters  too  to  deck; 
We've  seen  them  oft  at  Uncle  John's, 

Far  up   the   Kennebec.48 
His  wigwam  brave  is  wide  and  warm, 

His  woodlands  cool  and  shady ; 
Bright  fields  of  grain  and  golden  corn, 

Abundant  for  the  needy. 
193 


UP    THE    KENNEBEC. 
18 

Wide  waving  groves,  green  pastures  too, 

And  lofty  rills  we  reck; 
While  onward  puffs  our  proud  canoe, 

Far  up   the   Kennebec. 

Lo,  this  is  life!  —  with  kindness  rife! 

Though  the  day  be  dark  and  dreary; 
One  purpose  true,  and  God  in  view, 

We  never  need  be  weary ! 

19 

From  the  wily  snare,  to  guide  us  there, 

He  pilots   every   step ; 
And  swells  the  sail  with  a  grateful  gale, 

Far  up   the   Kennebec. 
Bless  me,  ye  Powers! — this  world  of  ours, 

In  peaky,  proudest  beauty, 
But  points  to   Thee,   inspiring  me 

To  diligence  in  duty. 
194 


THERE  S    A   BETTER   DAY. 
20 

And  though  the  storm  and  the  hail  may  come, 

And  the  surge  may  dash  the  deck ; 
Enough   it  is,   that   we   are   His, 

Far  up  the  Kennebec ! 
True,  true  they  say,  there's  a  better  day, 

And  faith,  we  ought  to  find  it! 
For  the  lights  of  love  that  burn  above, 

Are  lit  for  man  to  mind  it. 

195 


BARNARD   BROWN. 


WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  MAY  14,  1862. 
FBOM  THE  COPY  OF  A  LETTEB  OF  THAT  DATE. 


THE  ceiling  in  the  great  Library  at  the  Capitol  is  some  forty  feet  up,  extend- 
ing to  the  roof  of  the  building.  To-day  we  were  in  there,  and  as  it  happeued, 
a  workman  who  was  upon  the  roof,  jumped  off  from  a  higher  to  a  lower  part  of 
it;  at  which  an  entire  panel  of  the  roofing  gave  way — and  in  its  fall  brought  the 
man  with  it,  all  in  a  mass  down  upon  the  floor  before  us,  the  man  expiring 
instantly.  An  event,  thus  unforeseen  and  unexpected,  was  a  startling 

ADMONITION. 

|)LAS!   what  frightful  spectre  deigns 
To  chill  my  life-blood  in  the  veins! 

•;•_   ;-.• 

What  sudden  freak  or  panic  dash 
Brings  headlong  downward  with  a  crash, 
Like  thunder -bolt  from  awful  storm, 
To  mother  Earth,  thy  lifeless  form, 
Poor  Barnard  Brown! 
190 


I   SEE    THEE    IN    VISIONS. 

Away  at  dawn,  from  hearth  and  home, 
To  try  and  trust  an  iron  dome, 
Thy  feet  secure  from  all  mishap, 
Approached,  alas,  that  fatal  trap 
To  earthly  hopel — it  palsies  me! 
And  wife  and  children  weep  for  thee, 
Poor  Barnard  Brown! 

Beyond  this  earth  thy  lot  is  cast, 
Unknown,  unknowing,  while  time  shall  last ; 
Yet  shuddering  oft,  I'll  see  again 
Thy  quivering  form  and  feel  the  pain ; 
In  visions  of  thy  spirit  flown, 
And  dreams  of  night,  I'll  thee  bemoan, 
Poor  Barnard  Brown ! 

Great  Power  above!  it  is  but  Thee, 
Rebuking  man's  security; 
197 


BAKXAED    BBOWN. 

Like  the  wayless  wanderer,  taught  to  fear, 
Beneath  each  foot -step,  danger  near, 
We  learn  of  Thee ; — but  oft  too  late, 
And  share  in  grief  the  hapless  fate 
Of  Barnard  Brown. 

198 


THE  GOLDEN   WEDDING. 


AN   IMPROMPTU, 


;  E  Gods  hymenial  known  in  song, 
Come  down  and  bring  y'r  rhymes  along 
To  feed  a  frail,  benighted  throng, 
With    matrimonial    measures ; 
And  let  your  sentimental  lore 
Inflate  the  faltering  wing  to  soar, 
O,  teach  us  as  ye  taught  of  yore 
From  life's  abundant  treasures  1 
199 


THE    GOLDEN   WEDDING. 

Tell  us  of  what  we  ought  to  sing, 
To  what  in  faith  we  ought  to  cling; 
What  harp  and  voice  we  ought  to  bring, 

While  upward,  onward  spedding! 
Let  us  look  back  the  journey  through, 
Of  generations  take  a  view, 
And  seek  expedients  old  and  new, 

To   celebrate   a  wedding.49 


'Tis  but  to  turn  a  better  leaf, 
To  banish  hateful,  sordid  grief, 
And  cherish  life  in  full  belief 

Of  progress  and  expansion ; 
Each  hour  to  labor,  yet  to  love, 
As  if  'twere  given  from  above, 
As  if  the  soul  were  like  a  dove 

To  make  on  high  a  mansion. 
200 


SWEET    DATS    OF    YOKE. 

'Tis  not  true  life  to  foster  self, 
Nor  treasure  ignominious  wealth, 
Nor  lay  your  notions  on  the  shelf, 

Or  hide  them  in  a  napkin ; 
Nor  is  it  wise  to  strut  in  pride, 
Or  frown  at  folly,  or  deride 
At  sins  that  come  from  'tother  side, 

While  o'er  your  own  you're  napping. 


'Twill  better  be,  if  now  and  then, 
To  guide  the  foot -step  or  the  pen, 
Ye  take  the  retrospective  when 

Y*r  Fathers  here  were  living; 
When  ladies  never  loved  their  ease, 
When  mother  made  her  butter  and  cheese; 
When  children  crept  beneath  her  knees 

At  Christmas  or  Thanksgiving; 
201 


THT3    GOLDEN    WEDDING. 

When  then  ye  never  heard  of  balls, 
NOT  dire  divorce — nor  family  squalls, 
Nor  Grecian-bend — nor  water-falls, 

Nor  gossip, — nor  division. 
'Twas  then,  our  sister  Mary  spun, 
'Twas  then,  how  blithe  the  spindle  run, 
And  ah ! — how  sweet  the  song  she  sung, 

To  childhood's  happy  vision  ! 

Strong,  then  the  fathers  held  the  plows, 
And  maids  and  mothers  milked  the  cows, 
And  lovers  always  paid  their  vows 

At  eve  and  early  morning; 
While  Rachel  weaved  her  limber  rushes, 
Kind  Katie  swept  the  house  with  brushes, 
And  Nathan  brought  bright,  verdant  bushes 

The  fireplace  old  adorning. 

Soft,  then  the  zephyrs  moved  the  trees, 
Sweet  nectar  came  from  busy  bees, 
202 


KIND    VOICES. 

Bright,  better  days  no  mortal  sees, 

To  cheer  the  hearts  of  men  ; 
True  love  and  song,  sweet  life  enriching, 
With  voices  kind,  in   field  and  kitchen, 
O  God! — how  rich  and  how  bewitching, 
To  giddy  boyhood  then ! 

4 

We've  now  a  story,  brief  to  tell, 
Of  wedded  life  —  we  know  it  well, 
Historic  of  our  honored  Belle, 

From  a  happy  day  she  came ; 
Out  from  a  group  of  sisters  fine. 
iMcretia,  Ann,  and   Catherine, 
Elizabeth,   and    Caroline, 

Of  faithful  race  and  fame; 

All  at  a  time  on  memory's  page, 
When  children  paid  respect  to  age, 
When  the  man  was  always  saint  or  sage, 
203 


THE    GOLDEN   WEDDING. 

And  women  made  the  matches; 
Vain  wealth,  a  beau  could  never  catch, 
'Twas  love  alone  that  lit  the  match, 
Then  Hudson  changed  her  name  to  Hatch,- 

A  train  of  little  Hatches. 

Since  then  how  blithe  the  days  have  been ! 

What  golden  treasures  gathered  in ; 
What  loves,  what  hopes  have  dwelt  within ! 

What  faith  to  banish  fears! 
How  many  thanks  and  sweet  good  wishes, 
How  many  gems  and  gracious  dishes, 
How  many  heartfelt,  kindly  kisses 

Have  crowned  these  happy  years! 

5 

Up  hither  have  we  come  to-night, 
In  prompt  surprisings  to  delight, 
Here  each  in  turn  to  cast  our  mite 
Down  at  the  bridal  altar; 


WE   GREET   THEE. 

We  greet  you  with  the  best  of  tin, 
A   ladle   and   a   bosom -pin, 
Full  many  a  trinket  brought  you  in, 
With  never  a  heart  to  falter. 

We've  brought  you  knives  and  napkin  rings, 
Fine  fancy  fans,  from  glittering  wings, 
And  many  mighty  handy  things 

To  women  quite  bewitching; 
A  wedding  ring,  from  Aunt  Kesiah ; 
A  fancy  mug  from  little  Mariah, 
And  a  fish-fork  strong  from  brave  Josiah 

To  adorn  the  bridal  kitchen; 

And  here  sweet  Katie  brings  you  baskets, 
Here's  Huldah,  too,  with  nice  elastics, 
And  Uncle  Josh  has  filled  his  flaskets, 

Each  promptly  as  you've  seen ; 
Beaus,  many  are  here,  and  aged  rulers, 
And  maidens  meek  and  "spinning  mulers," 
205 


THE    GOLDEN"   WEDDING. 


With  plate  and  spoon,  and  "butter  coolers," 
All  hail !   the  bridal  Queen ! 


God  bless  the  bridegroom!  bless  the  bride! 
Each  Hatch  and  Hudson  far  and  wide, 
And  let  no  hapless  ill  betide 

These  holy,  happy  years! 
And  when  the  summons  comes,  to  go, 
From  golden  weddings  here  below, 
We'll  meet  again,  and  better  know 

The  folly  of  our  fears. 
206 


AN    ELEGY. 


[JEWETT.] 


OWN  where  sweet  waters  gently  glide, 

And  the  earth  inspires  her  tender  blade; 

Where  beckoning  wood -lands,  opening  wide, 
Receive  the  advancing,  sainted  dead, 

I  rove  at  morn;50  —  Phoebus,  afar, 

Hath  driven  the  pale  moon  from  the  sea, 

And  dazzling  out  each  fading  star, 

Brings  light  and  love  to  all,  but  me. 
207 


AN  ELEGY. 

Still  yet  in  faith,  I've  come  to  cast 

Fair  flowerets  down, — low  bending  do  it; 

For  here  in  death  is  laid  at  last, 

My  neighbor  kind — my  generous  Jewett. 

Friend  of  my  youth!      How  cruel  cold, 
The  blight  that  holds  a  heart  divine! 

Yet  life  would  quit  her  cares  untold 
To  share  immortal  treasures,  thine. 

Brisk,  blow  ye  bleak  winds,  bring  a  song, 
Celestial  vespers  sweet  and  clear ; 

Wave  wide,  ye  bending  woods  along, 
In  love  to  lay  sweet  garlands  here! 

And  you,  ye  wild -birds,  often  sad, 
In  little  songs,  if  not  in  tears; 

Forget  ye  not  my  honored  dead, 

As  wane  away  the  eternal  years! 
208 


BRING  LILIES. 

Let  lilies,  fragrant,  fill  the  ground, 

Lovely  for  aye  shall  live  the  sod; 

For  here,  indeed,  a  friend  is  found, 

"  A  man  the  noblest  work  of  God  1 " 
209 


"THAT  OLD   FLAG  YET.' 


[An  address  at  a  flag  raising,  in  October,   18C8,  having  reference 
to  the  Presidential  Election.] 


S!   let  it  wave  on  every  hill 
every  land,  triumphant  still, 

In  freedom  fair  as  ever! 
And  "let  the  conquering  hero  come," 
A  Nation's  glory  he  hath  won, 

Yes! — let  it  wave  forever! 

It  floated  long — the  foe  defied, — 

Proud  o'er  our  brave  ones  when  they  died, 

Its  destiny  completing; 
On  wide  old  Ocean's  dread  domain, 
Or  down  on  Richmond's  bloody  plain, 

In  victory  or  retreating. 
211 


THAT    OLD   FLAG    YET. 
2 

On  that  sad  field,  beneath  a  tree 
A  soldier  falls; — fighting  for  Lee, 

A  shaft  his  heart  had  met; 
Yet  while  our  troops  retreating  flee, 
He  hails  them  —  shouting,  (faintly  free,) 

"Hurrah!— for  that  old  flag  yet!" 

He'd  lived  beneath  a  southern  sun, 

Had  been  conscribed  when  the  war  begun, 

But  against  the  wrong  had  set; 
Still  leaning  on  a  rebel  gun, 
High  now  that  dying  voice,  it  run, 

"Hurrah!  —  for  that  old  flag  yet"— 

3 

All  day  —  all  night  —  our  cohorts  fly, 
While  oft  they  turn  a  tearful  eye, 

Back  where  that  soldier  sat ; 
Although  they'd  known  him  there  to  die, 
212 


A   VOICE   IN   THE    SKY. 

At  every  step  they  heard  the  cry, 

"Hurrah!— for  that  old  flag  yet." 

The  din  of  danger  far  and  nigh, 
A  sultry  sun ;  —  that  crimson  sky 

At  night,  they  heeded  not; 
Above  that  clamorous  battle  cry, 
They  knew  that  voice  —  ( 't  was  from  on  high ; ) 

They  waved  —  "that  old  flag  yet." 

And  when  next  day  at  dawn  of  light, 
Our  squadrons  wheeling,  left  and  right, 

The  foe  aback  beset; 
They  rallied  nobly,  full  of  fight, 
And  headlong  drove  him  out  of  sight;  — 

Hurrah!  — 'twas  "that  old  flag  yet." 


That  voice  will  never  wane  away, 
'Tis  in  the  air,  the  cloud,  the  clay, 
213 


THAT    OLD   FLAG   YET. 

Deep  in  the  soul,  'tis  set; 
In  every  form,  in  everj  way, 
They'll  hear  it  till  their  dying  day, 

"Hurrah!  —  for  that  old  flag  yet!" 

Yes!  —  let  it  wave  on  every  hill 
In  every  land,  triumphant  still, 

In  freedom  fair  as  ever; 
And  "let  the  conquering  hero  come," 
A  Nation's  glory  he  hath  won, 

Yes,  let  it  float  forever!41 
214 


AGAIN  'TIS  NIGHT. 


D.  C.,  MAY  4,  1863. 
WRITTEN  TO  LITTLE  C.  AT  EVE  AFTER  THE  BATTLE  OF  CHAUCELLORSVILLE. 


•5 

-GAIN  'tis  night; — yet  the  moon,  afar, 
Brings  radiant  light  to  the  tents  of  war; 

While  the  tramp  of  steed,  and  tap  of  drum, 
Have  waned  away  at  Washington. 

Yet  many  a  soldier,  brave  and  bright, 
Are  sad  within  their  tents  to  night; 
For  the  battle  hath  raged,  and  comrades,  true, 
Are  pale  beneath  yon  hills  of  blue. 
215 


AGAIN  'TIS   XIGHT. 

Wild  now  in  dreams,  the  country  maid 
Awakes  to  memories  of  her  dead; 
And  hearts  afar  in  grief  must  yield, 
To  the  cry  of  a  crimson  battle-field. 


From  death  and  cloud,  from  sad  dismay, 
In  thought  of  home,  I'll  turn  away, 
Where  over  her  book  stands  Caddie  plodding, 
With  weary  mother  near-by  nodding, 

My  little  Maggie,  gone  to  rest, 
With  angels,  happy  to  be  blest, 
Where  Nature  drinks  her  sweet  supplies, 
For  the  waste  of  age,  and  weary  lives. 

Forgetful  night  is  brief;   and  when, 
A  balmy  day  shall  dawn  again, 
Each  cheerful  task, —  each  deed  of  duty, 
Shall  cherish  Nature  in  her  beauty; 

•216 


THE    LITTLE    HEABTS    AT    HOME. 

Prompt  then  my  Phebe,  faithful  found, 
To  out -do  Peggie — trudging  'round; 
The  needful  do  —  composure  keep, 
The  parlor  brush  —  the  kitchen  sweep  ; 

And  next  for  chick,  and  pig  and  duckie, 
Prepare  a  dish  —  a  lunch  for  puppy ; 
All  neat,  complete;  —  then  comes  the  way, 
To  get  permit  to  go  and  play, 

With  friendly  favorites;  —  Ben  and  Bub, 
With  Emma,  Jane,  or  Bertha  Rugg; 
With  Georgie,  Marion,  or  Farie, 
Good  Alice  Brown,  or  sister  Mary; 

Blithe,  there  to  spend  in  social  chat, 
In  sport  of  childhood,  this  or  that, 
An  hour  of  time,  (if  you  obtain  it,) 
'Tis  always  worth  the  work  to  gain  it. 
217 


AGAIN   'TIS   NIGHT. 

Still  bear  in  mind,  the  axiom  ever, 
"  A  moment  lost  is  lost  forever." 
Prompt,  prudent  there  —  stay  not  too  long, 
Your  work  and  book  and  little  song, 

You'll  try  again,  on  due  return, 
And  many  a  useful   lesson  learn ; 
Excuse  Papa — he'll  blow  the  light, 
And  dream  of  thee  all  through  the  night. 


O, — happy  childhood,  once  my  own, 
Sweet,  dear  delights,  forever  flown! 
Forgetting  ne'er  that  halcyon  home, 
I'll  seek  it  in  a  world  unknown  1 
218 


BURNSIDE  AT  ROANOKE. 


FEBEUABY  7,  1862. 


ANOTHER  fleet 
Is  armed  complete, 

And  manned  for  southern  waters; 

To  "crack  a  joke" 

On  Roanoke, 

And  conquer  the  marauders. 
219 


BUENSIDE    AT   BOANOKE. 
2 

Three  columns  strong, 

Full  two  miles  long, 
Move  on  with  power  majestic ; 

No  naval  host 

E'er  ploughed  the  coast 
More  gallant,  more  terrific. 

3 

Waved  far  and  wide, 

High  on  the  tide, 
With  mighty  mail  and  mortars; 

They  storm  the  sound, 

And  the  heavens  resound 
Along  the  inland  borders. 

4 

Fast  on  the  foe, 
The  weapons  of  woe 
They  hurl  'mid  blazing  thunder 
220 


ON    SEA    AND    LAND. 

And  screaming  squibs; 
They  break  the  ribs 
Of  war -ships  driven  asunder; 


And  crippled  the  craft, 

Before  and  aft, 
Submerging  in  the  distance 

To  hades  goes; 

Such  heavy  blows 
Have  baffled  all  resistance. 


Then  to  the  shore; 

A  ceaseless  roar, 
Strange  slaughter  there  foreboding, 

Sweeps  o'er  the  land, 

Along  the  strand 
With  musketry  exploding. 
221 


BUBNSIBE   AT   ROANOKE. 
7 

Down  there  a  Wise 

Dishonored  dies, 
And  men  of  might  are  falling; 

On  every  hand, 

On  sea  aud  land, 
The  belching  fires  are  galling. 

8 

Out  from  their  forts, 

And  hidden  works, 
Brave  Burnside  shortly  shows  'em 

The  way  to  h'll 

By  shot  and  shell, 
As  down  the  devil  stows  'em. 


Some  fly  in  squads, 
Some  seek  the  Gods, 
In  prayer  for  safe  protection, 
222 


VICTORIOUS. 


Some  start  for  home; 
Some  skulk  alone, 
In  dread  of  dire  dissection. 


10 

Three  thousand  rebs, 

With  feeble  legs, 
(Their  consciences  grow  tender,) 

For  "quarters"  cry, 

And  signify 
Their  pleasure  to  surrender. 

11 

Then,  in  the  sky, 

Our  banners  high 
Ascend, — triumphant  shouting ! 

Firm  on  the  wall, 

Where  traitors  fall, 
The  dear  old  Flag  is  floating. 
223 


OUR    DAY   OF    INDEPENDENCE. 


WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  186L 

THE  RKAT.  AND  AVOWED  CAUSE  OF  THE  REBELLION. 
CHBONOLOGICAL. 


1 

|U||HE   fourth    of   July, 

Advancing  is  nigh, 
i 
It  brings  not  its  wonted   elation ; 

What  a  contrast  in  years, 
A  nation    in    tears 
O'erwhelraed — 'tis  a  sad  celebration! 
224 


ITS   JOYS    ONCE. 

Of  yore,  it  was  honored 

Of  hearts  high  onward, 
United  in  national  glory, 

The  old  rusty  gun, 

The  fife  and  the  drum, 
And  ringing  of  bells  told  the  story, 

How  victories  were  won, 

And  England  out -done, 
In  the  war  of  the  great  Revolution; 

How  tyrants  and  knaves 

Were  sent  to  their  graves, 
For  opposing  a  free  constitution ! 

Prompt  then  at  command, 

Throughout  all  the  land, 
Grand  fire -works  and  crackers  were  snapping; 

And  crowds  in  the  Town, 

From  afar  swarmed  down, 
All  hither  and  thither  were  tramping; 
225 


OUR   DAY    OF   INDEPENDENCE. 

With  music  and  noise, 

Both  old  men  and  boys, 
And  matrons  and  maidens  elated, 

All  welcomed  the  day's 

Fantastic  displays, 
As  the  tri- colored  banner  they  greeted. 


But   vainly,   alas ! 

While  onward  we  pass, 
The  day  is  beclouded  in  sadness; 

For  slavery's  chain, 

Hath  addled  the  brain, 
And  driven  the  master  to  madness. 

To  act  the  fool's  part, 
Unholy  at  heart; 

With  all  of  the  rights  they  needed, 
The  Union  to  smash, 
226 


ITS   SORROWS   NOW. 

They  stole  all  our  cash, 
And  piously  then,  they  seceded! 

3 

They'd  tried  long  in  vain 

The  Senate  to  gain, 
In  search  of  a  slave -state  majority; 

Intent  on  the  whole, 

The  North  to  control 
By  force  of  a  meagre  minority. 

To  a  desperate  end 

Their  invasions  extend, 
The  compromise  measures  unheeded, 

To  gain  by  knavery, 

Still  more  States  for  slavery,52 
But  two  to  be  added  they  needed. 

Tenacious  as  yet 
In  Kansas  they  met) 
227 


OUR   DAY   OP   INDEPENDENCE. 

Brave  patriots  in  Freedom's  devotion, 

Disdaining  to   yield 

That  broad  battlefield 
To  treason's  tyrannical  notion. 

Bold  aggressions,  assailed, 

The  invaders  failed; 
But  took  to  another  intention, 

Polluted  in  schemes, 

Their  damnable  dreams 
Were  turned  to  a  traitor's  convention. 


Three  reasons  they  had; 

The  tariff  was  bad, 
By  majorities  they  had  been  cheated; 

Their  crafty  invention 

Of  slave -state  extension 
Had  the  dare-devil  yankees  defeated.63 
228 

, 


SLAVERY    SEEKS    POWER. 


There  stood  in  the  way 

On  that  trial  day 
Old  Buck,  as  they  called  him,  (Buchanan),** 

A  troublesome  tool 

As  taught  in  that  school 
Of  confederates,  a  constant  companion. 

Against  such  a  crime 

He  dared  not  decline 
A  yielding  assent  to  the  faction ; 

A  leader,  he  stood 

Most  liberal  in  blood, 
Made  to  flow  by  fatal  inaction. 

His  day  soon  expired, 
As  many  desired, 
And  Abram  to  power  ascended, 
Down  a  by-way  track, 
229 


OUR   DAY    OF   INDEPENDENCE. 

In  a  midnight  hack, 
From  fear  of  a  mob -force  offended.*6 

6 

The  South  then  in  arms 

Created   alarms ; 
No  navy  commanded  the  ocean;56 

An  army  but  small, 

Mere  nothing  at  all, 
To  abate  the  impending  commotion. 

Fort  Sumter  they  stormed, 
For  combat  they  armed, 

The  traitors  in  treason  for  battle, 
To  rule  at  command 
The  whole  yankee  land, 

As  they  governed  an  African  chattel. 

7 

The  North  now  awake, 
Resistance  to  make ; 
230 


THB    ONSET. 

Brave  cohorts,  to  count  by  the  million, 

Prepared  for  the  field, 

Sworn  never  to  yield, 
Advance  to  crush  the  rebellion. 

Loud  the  battle  doth  roar 

As   never   before, 
Afar  on  the  billows  of  ocean, 

And  over  the  hills 

Loud  thundering  fills 
The  heavens  with  dread  commotion! 


Such,  such  is  the  strife, 

A  trial  for  life ; 
The  mothers  afar  are  weeping! 

And  angels  above, 

Kind,  constant  in  love, 
Their  vigils  in  sorrow  are  keeping! 
231 


OUR   DAY   OF   INDEPENDENCE. 

Yet,  free  from  mistake, 

Proud  History  shall  make 
A  record  of  the  true  and  the  brave ; 

Of  virtues  to  cherish, 

Of  heroes  that  perish, 
The  life  of  a  nation  to  save. 

232 


VICTORY. 


WRITTEN  for  the  Fourth  of  July,  1867,  having  reference  to  the  statue,  Victory, 
erected  on  that  day  at  the  tomb  of  the  first  martyrs  of  the  great  Rebellion. 


Thanks  to  the  God  of  armies  just! 

To  him  all  adoration  give, 
Who  cast  fell  fetters  down  to  dust, 

Forgave — to  let  a  nation  live! 

His  hand  upholds  the  stripe  and  star, 

Through  tragic  yet  triumphant  years; 
233 


VICTORY. 

I 

Wide  wave  that  dear  old  flag  afar, 

Beat  up  your  sabre,  dry  your  tears! 

Break  forth  in  song,  in  anthems  proud, 
The  noisy  drum  and  bugle  bring; 

With  cannon's  roar,  and  trumpet  loud, 
Let  the  vast  hills  and  valleys  ring; 

Sing — let  the  nations  loud  rejoice, 

For  deeds  heroic  hearts  have  done ; 

And  chant  with  high,  harmonious  voice 
Proclaiming  praise  for  Freedom  won! 

2 

Rear  high  yon  STATUE,W  proud  and  just; 

Make  glad  the  consecrated  green, 
Where  doth  the  soldier's  sainted  dust, 

Bespeak  the  sorrow  Earth  hath  seen; 

Where  Lowell's  sons,  at  danger's  post, 
First   in  the  field   and  first  to  fall, 
234 


ITS    HEROES. 

Repose,  —  'tis  here  a  pilgrim  host 

Shall  come  for  aye — true  patriots  all. 

As  well  the  way-worn  maiden  true, 

Her  wreath  in  tender  care  shall  bring; 

And  infant  Hearts  shall  come  and  strew 
Fair  flowerets,  sweetest  of  the  spring. 

Ages,  for  aye,  shall  know  and  feel 

A  sacrifice  so  nobly  made; 
And  the  brave  made  braver,  here  shall  kneel 

To  the  dust  of  these,  their  sainted  dead. 

3 

'Neath  darkness  drear,  the  din  of  war, 
Hath  waned  away  along  the  plain; 

Light  glimmering  down  is  seen  afar, 
The  Turtle  Dove  is  heard  again. 

Victory — triumphant,  ever  dear! 

Thy  form,  thy  promptings,  true  divine  ! 
235 


VICTORY. 

Revolving  suns,  resplendent  here, 

Shall  glow  with  homage  at  thy  shrine. 

To  thee,  in  turn,  fresh  garlands  fair, 
Shall  grateful  generations  give ! 

Eternal,  ever  treasured  there, 

The  hero  in  our  hearts  shall  live ! 


Hail,  hail  the  Day! — bright,  now  at  hand! 

(As  did  our  fathers  cheer  it,  thus,) 
For  Peace  in  fair  COLUMBIA'S  land, 

Hath  come  a  harbinger  to  us ; 

Her  temples  rise  still  higher  now, 

Vast,  spreading  wide  her  borders  are, 

Her  streams  in  fuller  fountains  flow, 
Her  highlands  fair  are  greener  far. 

Brute  beasts  abounding  crowd  the  stall ; 
Gay  lilies  prouder,  spread  the  lawn; 
236 


COLUMBIA    AT    PEACE. 

Blithe  birds  more  prompt  their  carols  call; 
The  dew-drop  sweeter  on  the  thorn; 

The  plowman  jogs  with  livelier  tread ; 

Meek  merchants  roam  the  ocean  o'er ; 
Glad  science  lifts  her  clearer  head, 

And  Art  more  cunning  than  of  yore. 

More  merry  chimes  the  bell  at  morn ; 

The  sparkling  anvil  sharper  trills; 
More  spiky  springs  the  waving  corn ; 

Her  flocks  more  frisky  on  the  hills. 

Stars  twinkle  brighter  in  the  sky; 

The  moon  unclouded,  sheds  her  light; 
That  king  of  day,  from  heaven  high, 

Looks  down  with  kindlier  visage  bright. 

Thanks  to  the  God  of  armies  just! 
To  Him  all  adoration  give, 
237 


VICTORY. 

Who  cast  fell  fetters  down  to  dust, 
Forgave — to  let  a  Nation  live! 

His  hand  upholds  the  stripe  and  star, 

Through  tragic,  yet  triumphant,  years; 

Wide  waves  that  dear  old  Flag,  afar; 
Beat  up  your  sabres,  dry  your  tears! 

238 


THE  TWO   BROTHERS. 


A   BEREAVEMENT. 


<OD  "bless  you  little  Eddie! 

Your  father's  only  boy ;" 
1  Farewell  for  aye,  to  Frankie, 

A  darling  earthly  joy! 

His  pilgrimage  completed, 

And  vain, — how  vain  to  weep ! 
The  kindest  favors  meted, 

Afford  afflictions  deep. 
239 


THE    TWO   BROTHERS. 

Beyond  a  veil  of  sorrow, 
His  little  heart  at  rest, 

We'll  miss  him  on  the  morrow, 
While  yet  among  the  blest. 

We'll  strive  in  vain  to  greet  him, 
In  dreams  of  gloomy  night; 

Yet  waking  we  will  meet  him, 
In  a  world  of  love  and  light. 

Parent  of  all,  forgive  us! 

Some  power  of  Thine  employ; 
From  the  pains  of  earth  relieve  us; 

Save,  save  my  lonely  boy! 

240 


FESTIVITY. 


APRIL  1,  1867.— AN  ADVERTISEMENT. 


C,  ring  the  bell — that  old  church  bell, 
And  hie  thee  to  the  festival 

In  favor  of  St.  Anne; 
Go  ye,  the  Church  and  Laity, 
Both  old  and  young  in  gayety, 

As  at  the  call  ye  can  1 

This  very  night  at  "  Huntington," 
The  place  of  pleasantry  and  fun, 
241 


FESTIVITY. 

Ye  '11  haste  away  anon ; 
For  true  to  friendship,  fondly  sweet, 
The  Ladies  there  intend  to  treat; 

Let  all  the  beaux  come  on ! 

Then  toll  the  bell,  that  old  church  bell, 
And  hie  thee  to  the  festival, 

In  honor  of  St.  Anne ; 
Go  ye,  the  Church  and  Laity, 
Both  old  and  young  in  gayety, 

All — at  the  call  ye  canl 
242 


THE   MARTYRS. 


AN  address  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Edson,  Rector  of  St.  Anne's  Church,  October  30, 
1867,  on  presenting  to  him  an  old  History  of  the  Martyrs,  printed  in  London  in 
1631,  to  be  deposited  and  perpetuated  in  "The  Rector's  Public  Library." 


,    time    never    slumbers,    nor    fails    to    work 

wonders, 

On  the   heart  of  great   numbers,   unfolding  their 
blunders, 

While  onward  he  swings,  too  often  he  brings, 
High  borne  on  his  wings,  the  most  terrible  things ! 

Still  there  is  a  charm,  a  sweet  halo  to  life, 
A  trust  true  in  God, — for  the  trouble  and  strife; 

243 


THE    MARTYRS. 

Forgive  and  forget,  nor  murmur  again 

At  the  jars  and  the  jeers  of  the  children  of  men ! 

2 

Far  back  in  the  distance,  mysterious,  behold, 
The  night -clouds  are  crimsoned,  a  story  is  told; 
For  there  did  the  fagot  fierce  fury  unfold, 
And  there  stood  the  martyr,  the  martyr  of  old ! 

Yet  see  above  all  a  bright  banner  unfurled, 
An  ensign  of  beauty — it  waves  o'er  the  world! 

Like  a  bow  in  the  cloud  —  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
'Tis  the  flag  of  a  kingdom  in  letters  of  blood. 

Give  heed  to  the  omen !   portentous  for  good, 

Fear  not  for  man's  vengeance,  the  fire,  or  the  flood, 

For  through  the  wild  tempest  that  curtains  the  sky, 
Glad  tidings  are  tendered  of  joy  from  on  high. 

3 

Proud  pledge  of  the  past! — its  fulfillment  appears, 
Down  through  the  succession  of  unnumbered  years ; 

244 


EARTH  S    CONFLICTS. 

The  Church,  wide  augmented,  is  upward  and  onward, 
The    world     hears    her  mandate,    and    moves    by    her 
standard  ; 

In    the    wake    of    her    wisdom,    her    wealth   and     her 

wonder, 
'Tis  mixed  in  the  nature  of  mortals  to  blunder; 

The  God  of  our  fathers  too  apt  to  offend, 
Making  light  of  His  favor — forgetting  a  Friend, 

What  madness  unholy!   and  why  do  they  rage, 
"The  heathen  benighted"  in  wrong  to  engage? 

Or  brothe*  with  brother  to  strive  in  commotion, 
Discarding  the  joys  of  fraternal  devotion  ? 

4 

True,  true  to  the  world,  in  the  turmoil  of  strife, 
Man  wars  with  a  will  in  the  battle  of  life  ; 

Like  the  insect  instinctive  to  work  a  wise  end, 
Or  the  giant  ungainly  inclined  to  contend  ; 

245 


THE    MARTYB8. 

In  love  or  in  hatred,  in  hope  or  desponding, 
Yet  to  the  great  God  of  creation  responding, 

To  Him  who  hath  care  for  the  ravens  that  cry, 
And  to  Him  whom  the  faithful  forever  are  nigh, 

All  honor  to  give. — Though  bewildered  of  earth, 
Beguiled  of  temptation,  to  death  or  to  dearth, 

The  soul  of  the  contrite  is  anchored  above  him, 
In  that  Parent  of  all — deep  in  duty  to  love  Him. 

6 

A  grain  of  true  charity  for  man  must  we  treasure, 
Whose  scars  for  the  right,  of  his  worth  are  the»measure ; 

A  veil  would  we  draw,  o'er  his  labors  and  lodgings, 
And  fain  would  abstain  from  his  doubts  and  his  dodgings. 

Life  is  but  a  lesson,  a  problem  for  all, 
The  noble,  ignoble,  to  stand  or  to  fall; 

All  nature  in  conflict,  beginning  at  birth, 
Not  less  is  the  church  in  her  trials  on  earth ; 

246 


THEIE   RECORD. 

All  move  by  one  power,  one  instinct  prevails, 

One  hope  and  one  purpose,  though  sometimes  it  fails ; 

Her  high -ways  are  numerous  and  winding  at  best, 
Yet  do  they  all  tend  to  one  region  of  rest. 

They  say  there's  a  kingdom,  that  day  shall  disclose, 
Unlike  the  vain  world,  her  weal  and  her  woes, 

Up  thither,  oh,  lead  us  in  the  pathway  of  light! 
Nor  let  us  mistake  the  wrong  for  the  right. 

6 

Here,  here  is  the  Record  recalling  that  day, 
When  the  spirit,  triumphant,  went  upward  away ; 

When  the  forms  of  the  faithful  to  ashes  were  laid, 
And  progress  for  Zion  by  the  martyr  was  made. 

Though  time  hath  beclouded  the  page,  as  you  see, 
The  Record  is  sacred, — I  bring  it  to  thee, 

In  the  name  of  the  worthies  that  witnessed  that  strife, 
Of  the  saint  thus  heroic,  who  gave  up  his  life  ; 

247 


THE   MAETYBS. 

In  the  name  of  the  Author,  the  Printer  and  Scribe, 
Tenacious  and  true  to  their  God  and  their  tribe ; 

In  the  name  of  the  Ship's -crew  that  came  o'er  the  so.1 
And   brought   down   such  treasure  to  the   Pilgrim    a-.i 
thee. 

Down  from  that  old  pilgrim,  whose  finger  removed 
The  dry-dust  that  darkened  this  leaf  that  he  loved, 

I've  come; — and  I  welcome  the  presence  to-night, 
Of  Fox  and  of  Young,  from  that  land  of  delight, 

Of  Rogers  and  Hooper  of  regal  renown, 

Ever  proud  like  the  angels,  yet  prone  to  look  down, 

Alive  to  the  tribute,  (complacent  above,) 
We  pay  to  the  shrine  of  truth  and  of  love, 

Of  zeal  that  withstands  the  fire  and  the  flame; 
Of  faith  that  ne'er  falters  in  God's  holy  name; 

Of  hope  like  an  anchor  made  steadfast  away 
Beyond  the  death -damp  of  unholy  dismay. 

248 


THEIB   FAITH    TKIUMPHANT. 


In  sight  of  the  angels  make  much  of  these  pages; 
You'll  hold  them  in  trust  for  the  far-coming  ages ; 

Though  fraught  full  of  trial,  of  tumult  and  tears, 
They'll  mind  thee  of  Zion  in  her  progress  of  years; 

Thy   daughters   shall  read   them,   thy   sons    shall  grow 


wise, 


The  pilgrim  shall  seek  them  as  light  from  the  skies; 

Far  down  on  the  tide-way  of  time  yet  to  come, 
Thy  Rectors  successive  shall  bear  them  along; 

And  true  like  the  star  in  the  firmament  shone, 

Shall  the  faith  of  the  martyr  to  the  nations  be  known. 


His  faith  is  but  thine,  as  it  nobly  hath  stood, 
Jt  hath  reared  thee  a  temple,  a  vestry  for  good; 

A  church  in  her  beauty,  old  worthy  St.  Anne, 
For  aye  shall  she  prosper,  as  blest  be  thy  hand ; 

249 


THE    MABTYBS. 

Ever  grand  in  progression — her  ensign  unfurled, 
A  fountain  of  wisdom,  a  light  to  the  world ; 

Generations  that  rise,  like  the  waves  of  the  sea, 
As  they  gather  and  go,  shall  learn  lessons  of  thee; 

Full  faith  here  abounding,  true  knowledge  extending, 
Glad  tidings  of  joy  from  thy  labors  descending. 

Long  years  are  advancing,  revolving,  returning, 
Yet  the  fires  at  thine  altar  are  brilliantly  burning; 

Around  thee  we'll  gather,  in  faith  to  be  blest, 

By  the  light  of  thy  day-star,  still   bright  in  the  west; 

Embrace,  my  dear  Rector,  these  VOLUMES  of  old, 
far,  bearing  them  onward,  their  pages  unfold ! w 

250 


A  PRESCRIPT. 


March  29th,  1867. 
To  R.  B.  C.,  Esq.: 

MY  DEAR  SIR:  Herewith  I  beg  leave  to  transmit  to  you  one  of  my  purely 
vegetable  remedies,  which  all  travellers  up  Parnassus  should  keep  by  them  for 
such  attacks  on  the  stomach  as  the  climate  induces.  Should  you  and  Constantia* 
take  any  morning  walks  up  that  mountain  together,  may  there  be  within  hearing 

Your  humble  friend, 

J.  C.   A. 


THE  REPLICATION. 

IVE  forever!   my  dear  Doctor! 

Thee  and  thine  in  days  divine; 
To  cure  the  world  of  all  diseases, 
Burning  thirst,  or  chill  that  freezes, 
As  thou  divested  me  of  mine! 


•The  name  of  certain  wines  found  by  the  author  in  a  box,   containing  also 
other  presents, 

251 


THE    REPLICATION. 

Thanks  for  favors  fraught  with  pleasure, 
Wine  and  gems  from  foreign  land, 

Thanks  for  a  kindly  keep -sake  treasure, 

Benefactions  without  measure, 

Bounteous  from  a  healing  hand. 

No  more  to  know  disease  disastrous, 

Health,  ye '11  have  it, — ne'er  to  falter; 

Haste  !  haste !  to  clamber  up  Parnassus ; 

Constantia,  beauteous,  blest  of  Bacchus, 
Shall  pour  libations  at  thine  altar. 
Thine, 

K.   B.   C. 

March  29,  1867. 

252 


THE   WAG   IN    A  GRAVE-YARD. 


WAG  one  day,  his  cares  to  drown, 

Had  taken  too  much  cider; 
He  bent  his  way  for  a  neighboring  town, 
Yet  wandered  far  and  wider. 

The  grave -yard  gate  had  open  blown, 
By  the  winds  of  winter  creeping, 

And  over  a  tomb  ho  tumbled  down, 
Yet  found  no  place  for  sleeping. 
253 


THE    WAG   IN    A   GRAVE -YAED. 

He  rolled  amid  the  drowsy  dead, 

As  the  night-watch  would  attest  to, 
Then  staggering  high,  he  fell,  but  said, 
rise  whene'er  the  rest  do" 


A  fisherman  while  on  his  way, 

When  morn  came  breaking  proudly, 

Descried  the  carcass,  where  it  lay, 
And  blew  his  trumpet  loudly. 

It  raised  our  hero  from  the  mire, 

Who  thought,  from  where  he  lay, 

He'd  heard  the  sound,  and  saw  the  fire, 
Of  the  fearful  judgment  day. 

He  staggers  forth,  and  rubs  his  eyes, 

(As  the  story  is  related) 
"Yes!  faith,"  (says  he)  "I'm  first  to  rise, 

Unless  I'm  much  belated." 
254 


HEED    NOT    THE    CUP. 
3 

Poor  Wanderer!   Let  me  turn  to  say; 

Temptation  —  heed  it  never! 
Turn  from  the  grave -yard — turn  away;- 

It  seeks  the  sot  forever."9 
255 


A  CARD. 


FRIEND  C. — Can  you  furnish  me  a  companion  of  exactly  your  dimensions 
for  an  hour's  idleness  and  ride  into  the  country?  If  you  can, — come  to  my 
cart, —  I  will  be  at  your  service. 

Yours,  in  a  hurry, 

J.  0.  A. 
June  8,  1870. 


THE  ANSWER. 

AT   EVE. 

URSE  on  tfr  letter,  it  comes  too  late! 
I  feel  the  fangs  of  bitter  fate 

In  devilish  disapp'intment, — 
Driving  the  nerves  ajar,  unstrung 
As  if  indeed  I'd  just  been  hung! 
I  crave  y'r  healing  'intraent. 

c. 

256 


THE  LOST   CHILDREN, 


A  GHOST  IN  A  CLOUD. 

1 

OWN  to  my  door  at  night  forlorn, 

I  met  her  bending  low; 
She'd  waded  through  the  sleet  and  storm, 

Strange!  —  what  had  made  her  so?60 

Cold  were  her  locks  with  driven  snow, 

Her  person  curious  clad, 
Her  heart  beguiled  to  the  depths  of  woe, 

Gave  vent  to  wailings  mad. 

'Twas  like  the  work  of  wicked  war, 
Which  earth  itself  enshrouded, 
257 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN. 

That  from  the  wilderness  afar, 
A  soul  had  thus  beclouded. 

True,  true  it  proved,  vague  tidings  came 
Of  life  and  death  successive; 

Dark  days  of  doubt,  upon  the  dame, 
But  makes  the  grief  impressive. 

Bending  beneath  earth's  broken  ties, 
By  baneful  wrongs  to  languish, 

She  turns  but  to  soliloquize, 
In  wild,  relenting  anguish. 

2 
MSad  rumor  comes  from  far  away, 

A  chill  of  death  upon  me, 
All  night — all  day  —  it  brings  dismay; 

Faint,  fearful  for  my  Johnny! 

"Has  he  no  thought,  nor  mind,  nor  care, 
For  infants  left  so  sadly ; 
258 


A   MOTHER   MOURNS. 

While  to  my  knee  they  gather  there, 
To  greet  me  often  gladly? 

"  Is  life,  O  God !   a  gift  of  Thine, 
Yet  Thine  so  soon  to  sever? 

And  are  these  little  babes  of  mine 
To  be  bereft  forever, 

"Like  me  to  weep? — no  more  to  share 

A  father's  fond  caressing; 
No  more  of  love — no  more  that  care, 

That  kind,  paternal  blessing! 

"O,  give  me  back  my  former  year, 
Life's  languid  hour  to  gladden, 

That  brought  me  ne'er  a  sigh,  nor  tear, 
Nor  death,  nor  dearth  to.  sadden! 

"  Oft  Tommy  talks  of  Papa  dear, 

Not  knowing  how  it  grieves  me; 
259 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN. 

And  little  Johnny  brings  him  near, 
At  every  time  he  sees  me. 

"A  neighbor  true  is  more  discreet, 
More  hopeful  of  the  morrow, 

Yet  darling  Katie,  at  my  feet, 
Imparts  a  pang  of  sorrow. 

"My  Johnny  when  he  left  me  lone, 
He  pressed  these  infants  to  him, 

And  tried  to  cheer  this  heart,  my  own, 
In  tenderest,  wildest  wooing. 

"The  cold  December  gales  had  come, 
The  drum  was  then  tattooing, 

My  last  embrace  indeed  was  done, 
Yet  Katie  clung  unto  him. 

"Let  go,"  he  whispered, — "Katie,  dear," 
His  eye  a  tear  discloses  ; 
260 


FATHERLESS. 

"The  spring  will  soon  again  appear, 
Papa  will  bring  you  posies." 

3 

"Sweet  spring  hath  come  and  gone  again, 
And  winter  comes  to-morrow, 

To  me  the  roses  bloomed  in  vain, 

They  brought  me  naught  but  sorrow. 

" O'erwhelmned  of  war!  what  will  I  do? 

It  causes  tearful  tattle ; 
God  of  my  life!   oh,  tell  me  true, 

Is  Johnny  lost  in  battle  ? 

"Mine  is  he  now,  and  hath  he  care, 
His  promise  kindly  keeping, 

Or  in  the  grave  to  slumber  there, 
Unmindful  of  my  weeping? 

"I  strive  to  hear  a  hopeful  thing, 
Some  solace  seek  around  me, 
261 


THE   LOST    CHILDREN. 

Tidings  of  death  are  on  the  wing, 
Vague  messages  confound  me. 

"In  dream  I  start  at  empty  sound, 
Nor  voice,  nor  foot -step  near  me, 

'Neath  shades  of  night  I  ramble  round, 
Where  Johnny  used  to  cheer  me." 

4 

Long,  long  she  wanders,  loosing  strength, 
In  wild,  bewildering  sorrow; 

Till  pinching  poverty,  at  length, 
Appears  in  haggard  horror. 

November  frowns  with  frosty  air, 

That  shakes  the  house -hold  shivering, 

Their  little  feet  are  purple  bare, 

That  mother's  heart  is  quivering. 

Then  came  the  overseer  cold 
As  crag  of  icy  ocean ; 
262 


THEIE   POVERTY    AND    SEPARATION. 

Whose  heart  is  stone,  whose  god  is  gold, 
And  self  is  deep  devotion. 

5 

Whom  to  dissuade,  list  ye  the  lad, 

The  eldest  of  the  three ; 
"My  mother  dear,  spare  her,"  he  said, 

"Her  little  ones  and  me." 

"A  soldier  lived  within  this  wall, 

He  loved  us  over  chary; 
And  when  he  heard  his  country's  call, 

'Twas  here  he  bade  us  tarry. 

"Leave  me  to  dwell  with  kindred  blood — 

Permit  no  dread  division, 
For  this,  my  father  prayed  of  God, 

And  praying,  died  in  prison. 

"Near  and  more  near  as  days  depart, 

Endearments  hold  us  hither; 
263 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN. 

Oh !   spare  ye  then  a  mother's  heart, 
And  let  us  live  together." 

At  this  the  overseer  starts, 

And  but  a  word  advances, 

"What  care  have  we  for  broken  hearts? 
They'll  favor  our  finances?" 

6 

Then  at  a  poor-house,  lone  and  sad, 
Cold  negligence  annoys  her ; 

Grief  can  but  make  a  mother  mad, 
Yet  perfidy  destroys  her. 

Mute  there  to  brood  beneath  a  cell, 
On  what  may  next  beset  her, 

On  sin  and  satan,  death  and  hell, 
Made  worse  instead  of  better. 

One  day  that  little  train  came  in,     • 
Sweet  Katie,  John  and  brother; 
264 


HEAETLESSNESS. 

Each  heart  withheld  a  sigh  within, 
But  took  their  leave  of  mother. 

With  strange  surprise  she  saw  them  start, 
And  heard  the  carriage  clatter, 

But  ne'er  to  tears  could  move  her  heart, 
From  that  day  ever  after. 

A  chill,  like  death,  came  o'er  her  frame, 

A  paleness  on  her  brow ; 
And  what  from  simple  sorrow  came, 

Is  morbid  madness  now. 

7 

As  if  from  God,  a  spirit  stood, 

To  say  it,  once  forever, — 
"Idols  ye  had,  they're  gone  for  good, 

Again  ye '11  see  them  never. 

"In  pain  ye'd  brought  them  each  in  turn, 

To  this  cold  world  of  care, 
265 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN. 

Each  tender  foot  had  taught  to  spurn, 
Its  vile  besetting  snare. 

"In  sorrow  struggling  day  by  day, 

Intent  to  soothe  distress, 
Ye've  watched  the  midnight  hours  away, 

Their  little  lives  to  bless. 

"Now  far  away,  forever  gone, 
Where  frailties  find  no  limit, 

Where  Christians  made  a  Christian  home, 
Yet  satan  lurks  within  it." 

8 

Thus  spake  the  ghost; — then  fled  on  high 

Within  the  shady  vapor; 
And  left  that  mother  with  a  sigh, 

For  heartless  human  nature. 

That  vapor  cloud,  still  floating  high, 
The  breath  of  heaven  bore  it; 
266 


K    IN    THE    CLOUD. 


Above  that  infant  train,  and  nigh, 
An  angel  went  before  it. 

It  drooped  for  days  in  curtains  dark, 
High  o'er  that  home  of  horror, 

Then  with  a  forked  lightning  spark, 
Turned  westward  still  to  follow. 

Far  there  above  the  prairie  plain, 
It  mutters  murky  thunder, 

And  drops  a  tear  for  the  little  train, 
Up  gazing  full  of  wonder. 

9 

Then  from  that  cloud  a  message  came, 
In  soft  but  strange  expression,  — 

"From  love  of  gain,  vain  man,  refrain, 
It  fosters  vile  oppression. 

"There  is  a  God,  in    the  heavens  high, 

A  hell  of  fire  beneath  it  ; 
267 


THE   LOST   CHILDREN. 

An  angel  spirit  always  nigh, 
How  can  ye  disbelieve  it? 

"A  hell  indeed  for  the  priest  that  tries 

To  gain  a  golden  treasure, 
Nor  heeds  a  pang  of  broken  ties, 

To  carry  out  the  measure ; 

"That  never  hears  the  heart's  complaint, 

Nor  sees  in  pain,  an  evil, 
Who  when  the  more  'he  feigns  the  saint,' 

The  more  he  serves  the  devil." 

10 
Still  there  he  stands,  too  strange  to  tell, 

In  godliness  deceptive, 
With  infant  souls  to  let  or  sell, 

Who've  thus  been  taken  captive. 

Priest  of  the  world!   go  seek  the  swine, 
And  take  the  husks  they  're  eating ; 
268 


WILD    SHE    SEEKS    THEM. 

But  ne'er  to  strut  in  robes  divine, 
For  money  or  for  cheating.61 

Tis  you  that  voice  bespeaks,  beware; 

"Pis  a  shame,  the  signs  betoken; 
For  what  beguiled  a  mother's  care, 

A  mother's  heart  hath  broken. 

Time  hath  advanced,  behold  her  now, 
By  bond  from  bondage  taken; 

Yet  madness  dwells  upon  her  brow, 
Her  nerves  are  quivering,  shaken. 

11 

Away  in  mental  morbid  pain, 
She  roams  the  desert  dreary, 

Sure  victim  of  unholy  gain, 

In  tangled  path -ways  weary. 

With  holy  Bible  held  at  hand, 
In  prayer,  pathetic,  ponders, 
269 


THE    LOST   CHILDREN. 

High  on  the  hill -top  takes  a  stand, 
Deep  in  the  forest  wanders. 

She  calls  and  calls  each  child  in  turn, 
With  trumpet  tongue  bespeaks  them, 

Wild,  'neath  the  bending  brake  and  fern, 
Far  in  the  echo  seeks  them.62 

Angelic  souls  of  kindred  dead, 
Their  vigils  still  are  keeping, 

And  from  that  cloud  high  over  head, 
She  hears  the  father  speaking. 

'Mazed  and  bewildered  at  the  sound, 
Her  feeble  frame  is  falling; 

Still,  there's  a  cry  up  from  the  ground 
For  Katie,  Katie  calling. 

Statutes  of  earth !   how  frail  and  faint ! 
How  coy,  her  court's  condition  ; 
270 


GIVE   US   A  WHIP! 

How  vain  the  inmost  soul's  complaint, 
A  mother's  meek  petition  I83 

Father  of  love; — vouchsafe  to  tell, — 
Our  hearts  oppressed,  yet  praying, 

Why,  in  the  sight  of  heaven  and  hell, 
Thy  judgments  are  delaying! 

Grant  to  the  world  some  law  of  Thine, 
Or  scourge  to  be  relied  on, 

Drive  out  the  devil  from  deeds  divine, 
And  hypocrites  from  Zion! 

12 
That  wail  of  woe,  no  light  it  had, 

The  evening  shades  came  o'er  it, 
High  in  the  sky  with  murmurings  mad, 

A  fearful  tempest  bore  it. 

Down  to  my  door  at  night  forlorn, 
I  met  her  bending  low, 
271 


THE    LOST   CHILDREN. 

While  yet,  that  cold,  complaining  storm, 
Brings  messages  of  woe. 

13 

Such,  such  is  earth, — so  often  so, 

Fain  would  the  heart  abscond  it! 

Its  poisoned  drugs  we  drink,  but  know 
There  is  a  balm  beyond  it. 

Crime  hath  a  fearful  penalty, 

Oft  me  ted  out  to  sinners; 
A  fool  is  but  a  specialty, 

The  wise  are  always  winners. 


ENDURANCE. 


Te've  heard  she  seeks  her  Katie  mild, 
In  thorny  pathways  pondering, 
272 


HIDDEN   FAB  AWAY. 

Frantic  to  roam  in  deserts  wild, 

Far  in  the  wood -land  wandering. 

Yet  there's  a  calm  in  the  morning  light, 
And  the  noon  is  full  of  flowers ; 

And  love  and  hope  are  beaming  bright, 
To  lull  the  lingering  hours. 

Her  dove  comes  back  to  coo  at  dawn, 
And  the  sparrow  chirps  above  her, 

Uncalled  the  petted  patient  fawn 
Stands  at  the  door  to  love  her. 

But  waiting  brings  not  Katie  home, 
Nor  wandering  far  to  find  her, 

A  mother's  cry  the  clouds  bemoan, 
The  sun  but  serves  to  blind  her. 

Life's  weary  day  hath  crushing  care, 
And  night  hath  pangs  infernal; 
273 


ENDURANCE. 

Her  every  path -way  holds  a  snare, 
Her  wailings,  wild,  eternal. 

Quaint  echo  quick  that  plaint  returns, 
On  zephyrs  softly  sighing, 

And  beauteous  Nature,  blushing,  burns, 
Earth's  cruelties  denying. 

God  give  us  balm! — for  tedious  years; 

Repentance! — for  transgression; 
A  vigorous  faith  for  trouble  and  tears, 

Prompt  vengeance — for  oppression. 

274 


A  NIGHT  THOUGHT. 


PATERNAL. 
WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  MAY  30,  1862.  —  ADDRESSED  TO  A  LITTLE  Miss  WHO 

HAD  KETURNED  TO  NBW  ENGLAND. 


little  bed  is  vacant; 
Now  free  from  busy  day, 
Our  thought  is  fresh  and  fragrant, 
For  Caddie  far  away. 


Ye  Winds,  my  window  pressing, 
Some  Voice  divine  obey, 

And  bear  a  father's  blessing, 
To  Caddie  far  away. 
275 


A   NIGHT    THOUGHT. 

Break  not  her  calm  reposes, 

Breathe  vespers,  meek  and  mild, 

Go,  scatter  garland  roses, 
The  lily,  lovely,  wild! 


Softly  enchant  her  slumbers, 
With  sweet  angelic  lay, 

In  pure  ecstatic  numbers, 
From  regions  far  away. 


Then  hail  the  morn's  bright  breaking, 

Bring  balmy,  beauteous  day, 
To  thought  divine  awaking, 
My  Caddie  far  away! 

276 


THE  SOLDIER'S   MOTHER. 


FEBBUABY  10,  1864. 


UITE  far  beyond  the  village  din, 
(The  shades  of  night  are  gathering  in ;) 

A  matron  moves  with  faltering  tread, 
A  sable  shawl  hangs  o'er  her  head; 

She  hath  no  heed  while  passing  there, 
Of  the  outward  world  devoid  of  care. 

Yet  up  the  frosty  hill  she  sped, 
Passed  many  a  mansion  of  the  dead, 
277 


THE  SOLDIER'S  MOTHER. 

And  winding  through  a  narrow  dell, 
Upon  the  drifted  snow  she  fell ! 

Her  right  hand  holds  a  new-made  bier, 
Her  left  removes  a  falling  tear, 

Her  soul  o'erwhelmed  of  anguish  keen, 
'Tis  o'er  the  grave  of  Frederick  Greene. 


"Great  God!"  she  prays,  "is  this  the  doom 
Of  sons  and  mothers  here  below? 

"We  press  a  pathway  to  the  tomb, 
Yet  ne'er  can  know  another's  woe. 

"Impart  to  us,  a  sinful  race, 

Full  knowledge  of  Thy  sovereign  power; 

"  But  spare !  —  oh,  spare,  with  pardoning  grace, 

A  nation  in  her  darkest  hour. 
278 


HER   PEAYEE. 

"Thy  judgments  dread  are  in  the  cloud, 
There's  fire  tempestuous  in  the  blast ; 

"We  see  Thy  vengeance  in  the  storm, 
Earth's  armies,  fearful,  falling  fast; 

"The  oppressor,  vile,  provoked  Thy  wrath, 
In  shame  and  sorrow,  sad,  confessed! 

"Obstruct  the  wayward  tyrant's  path, 
Relieve  the  bond -man,  still  oppressed! 

"Forgive  our  ciime! — distract. the  foe, 
That  lurks  in  treason  to  destroy, 

"That  brings  a  suppliant  mother  low, 

i 
Still  weeping  o'er  her  darling  boy ! " 


Above  that  prayer,  a  cloud  arose, 
And  darkness  veiled  that  dread  repose. 
279 


THE    SOLDIER  S    MOTHER. 

Yet  there  amid  the  storm  that  blew, 
Was  heard  a  mother's  last  adieu! 

Then  leaving  lone  that  icy  mound, 
Homeward  inclined,  she  wanders  'round, 

Through  many  an  unknown  path  and  plot, 
Yet  finds  at  length  her  long-left  cot, 

Silent  within !  —  no  friend  is  there, 
Save  Freddie's  dog  in  faithful  care. 

The  flickering  light  had  ceased  to  burn, 
So  had  the  embers  in  their  turn. 

There  sunk  to  rest,  where  once  her  dead 

Had  cradled,  in  a  cotter's  bed, 

« 

Where  memory  dwells  on  all  the  past, 
The  summer  day — the  winter's  blast; 

Earth's  cherished  hopes,  now  known  no  more, 
And  joys  long  lost,  she  ponders  o'er; 
280 


HER   DREAM. 

4 

Still  did  the  hail -storm  beat  in  vain, 
True  faith  in  God  relieved  her  pain. 

Yet  with  the  dreary  tempest  sound, 
Strange  phantom  shadows  glided  'round, 

Till  sleep  benumbed  a  weary  frame, 
As  last  was  breathed  that  dearest  name. 

B 

Now,  drowned  in  balmy  slumber's  sway, 
The  matron  dreamed  that  night  away 

In  peaceful  thought.     In  regions  fair, 
She  saw  a  mighty  army  there, — 

Away  beyond  Earth's  battle  -storm, 
And  Freddie — still  in  uniform. 

281 


THE  OLD  GARRISON  HOUSE. 


TALK  WITH  A  GHOST, 

AT  MY  NATIVE  BARRrNGTON,  K.  H.,  SATURDAY  EVE, 
OCTOBER  20,  1860. 


1 

HEY  'RE  sacred  now,  these  walls  of  wood ! 
IP 

Ah !  what  can  bear  comparison ! 

From  age  to  age  they've  nobly  stood, 
They've  braved  the  conflict,  storm  and  flood 
Of  the  olden  time,  a  Garrison. 

2 

Deserted  now,  within,  without, 
Alone,  aloof,  upon  a  hill, 
283 


THE   OLD    GARRISOX   HOUSE. 

And  rumor  rife  hath  come  about, 
That  "in  those  port -holes  looking  out, 
The  midnight  spectre  lingers  still." 

3 

And  now,  ye  ghosts,  if  ghost  there  be, 

Speak!  speak,  and  tell  us  of  the  strife, 
When  you  had  life  and  limbs  as  we, 
When  panting  pilgrims  had  to  flee 

The  tomahawk  and  scalping  knife. 

4 

When  in  that  boundless  forest  wild,. 

At  sound  of  war-whoop  from  afar, — 
How,  anxious,  up  and  down  ye  filed, 
And  hewed  the  logs,  and  upward  piled 

This  fortress  rude.      How  in  dread  war 

5 

At  humble  huts,  far  scattered  wide, 

To  toil  ye  gave  the  weary  day, 

284 


Deserted  now  witlmi  without. 

Alone   aloof,  upon  a  hill. 
Atid  rumor  rife  halh  come   about 
That  in  those  port  holes   looking   out. 
The   midnight  specter.  . 


SURROUNDED. 

Then  driven  here,  at  eventide, 
The  child  and  mother,  side  by  side, 

Fast  winding  through  the  thorny  way. 

6 

Unheeded  then  the  beasts  of  prey, 

The  prowl  of  wolf  no  terrors  brought, 
Nor  rancorous  reptiles  iu  the  way, 
The  pilgrim  heart  knew  no  dismay, 

Save  what  the  knife  and  faggot  taught. 

7 
Within  these  doors  then  bolted  fast, 

Say,  what  of  dreams  ?    Pray  speak  and  tell, 
How,  oft  amid  the  tempest  blast, 
Ye  heard  the  rattling  arrows  cast, 

The  mid -night  gun,  the  savage  yell. 

8 

What  tearful  thought,  and  what  the  care, 
That  moved  the  matrons,  and  the  men 
285 


THE    OLD    GARRISON    HOUSE. 

To  hug  sweet  infants,  cradled  there, 
To  guard  the  household,  and  to  share 
The  dangers  dread  impending  then ! 

9 

And  what  when  tedious  years  had  passed, 

To  mourn  thy  many  kindred  slain  ! 
Here  then,  at  peace,  ye  lived  at  last, 
Yet  did  the  sands  of  life  fall  fast, 
And  dust  to  dust  returned  again. 

10 
How  then  the  spirit,  wafted  high, 

From  lifeless  nature  'neath  the  ground ; 
Then  from  the  portals  of  the  sky, 
'Mid  clouds  of  night,  —  oh,  tell  us  why 

In  this  old  fort  ye  still  are  found ! 

11 

Whence  are  thy  joys  eternal,  bright, 
As  if  ye  had  no  faltering  fear, 
286 


THE    NATIVE    TRIBES. 

No  sad  bereavement,  pain  nor  blight, 

Nor  care  to  cramp  that  calm  delight, 

Foretold  of  faith  in  such  career? 

12 

Ye've  seen  the  tribes  that  roamed  of  yore, 

From  LovelFs  Lake  to  the  falls  of  Berwick, 
Or  down  Cocheco's  wood -land  shore, 
Where  Wat-che-no-it  dipped  his  oar, 
At  Dover  old,  or  Squanomegonic.64 

13 

Since  then  as  now  to  the  market  town, 

From  the  hills  afar,  yet  blue  and  bland, 
'Mid  summer's  heat  or  winter's  frown, 
How  settlers  teamed  their  treasures  down, 
Proud  in  the  products  of  the  land. 

14 

Their  foot -prints  firm  are  on  the  plain 

'Mid  blighting  frost,  or  vigorous  health, 
287 


THE    OLD    GARRISON    HOUSE. 

Where  varied  life  of  joy  and  pain, 
Hath  learned  of  mother  earth  how  rain 
Is  pride,  or  fame,  or  sordid  wealth! 

15 

Then  tell  us  true,  if  well  ye  may, 

Since  tribe  and  pilgrim  hither  met ; 
How  generations  lived  their  day, 
How  each  in  turn  have  passed  away, 
But  where,  O  where,  untold  as  yet ! 

16 

Of  all  that  host,  some  knowledge  lend, 

That  from  the  world  the  years  have  hurried, 

Say,  what  of  Waldron,  what  his  end? — 

Old  "Mi-an-to-ni-mo"  his  friend, 

And  "Mossup  slain  yet  kindly  buried."86 

17 

Say,  if  amid  that  spirit  sphere, 

Ye  have  full  knowledge  freely  given, 

288 


THE    SPECTRE    SPEAKS. 

Why  thus  withhold  from  mortals  here 
The  glories  grand,  forever  dear 

To  thee  and  thine,  of  death  and  heaven. 

18 

The  spectre,  listening,  seemed  to  move, 

Half  hidden  still  within  the  wall, 
In  garb  of  light  and  looks  of  love, 
With  cadence  strange  as  from  above, 
Made  answer  thus,  the  one  for  all : 

19 

"Why  thus  should  men  make  search  to  know 
Their  final  fate  forever  hidden  ? 

Beyond  this  world  of  weal  and  woe, 

Your  vision  finite  ne'er  can  go ; 

Enough  for  man  it  is  forbidden. 

20 

"What  truth  in  Abraham  ye  trace, 

And  what  of  Israel's  tribes  are  told, 
289 


THE    OLD    GARRISON    HOUSE. 

What  Bunyan  wrote  of  the  pilgrim  race, 
Ye  well  may  know,  and  grow  in  grace, 
As  the  fathers  faithful  did  of  old. 

21 

"  Enough !  and  why  should  we  disclose 
The  purpose  grand  ordained  above, 
Betray  the  trust  that  heaven  bestows, 
And  tempt  the  world  from  calm  repose, 
Its  tranquil  life  and  truthful  love. 

22 

"Then  banish  care!     Earth  can  but  see, 
Far  in  the  cloud,  a  guardian  hand; 

Nor  heed  the  storm,  alike  as  we, 

True  mariners  upon  the  sea, 

Ye '11  find  the  pilgrim's  promised  land." 

23 

The  night -damp  dark  in  curtains  fell, 

Hushed  were  the  hills  and  valleys  green, 
290 


BECLOUDED. 

I  bent  ray  foot -step  down  the  dell, 
A  voice  there  whispered, — "All  is  well,"- 
And  nothing  more  was  said  or  seen. 

291 


SAM  THE  CARPENTER. 


1869. 
A  WORD  TO  SAM  AT  THE  BUILDING  OF  A  HOUSE  THAT 

LOOKED  LIKE  AN  AEK. 


other  such  there  lived  before, 
In  days  of  old  —  they  call'd  him  Noah; 
Who  built  an  ark  (like  any  squatter) 
And  trusted  God  for  wind  and  water. 

Then  (as  they  say)  when  the  fearful  fountains 
Came  rolling  down  the  murky  mountains, 
It  knocked  the  ark  away  to  swim, 
And  the  "hangers-on"  went  tumbling  in. 

Some  took  it  faithless  —  some  in  fun, 
"'Tis  but  a  shower,"  were  the  words  of  one; 
292 


.    SAVE   YOUR   NEIGHBORS. 

Still  to  the  ark,  they  turned  to  swim, 
But  Noah  cried — "Ye  can't  come  in! 

Sam,  save  your  neighbors  I —  Let  us  know 
When  next  the  the  angry  floods  shall  flow! 
Your  ark  all  rigged — we  well  may  chance  it, 
Sure — tell  us — when  ye '11  try  to  launch  it  I 

293 


LOSS  OF   LOVE. 


I'VE  heard  from  him  but  once  a  week!" 
Thus  murmuring  did  the  maiden  speak; 
In  faith  I  turned  to  tell  her,  then: 

The  ink  had  frozen  in  the  pen. 

When  latent  fires  are  held,  at  will, 
Beneath  a  frost-bound,  heavy  hill, — 
Thence  can  ye  see  volcanic  flame? 
Man's  heart  is  heavy,  much  the  same. 

If  darkness  dwell  beyond  the  night, 
Or  dews  congeal  in  frigid  blight, 
295 


LOSS   OF   LOVE. 

Alas!   for  thrift  or  glow  or  blaze, 
Without  inspiring,  genial  rays. 

What  though  ye  ferret  out  the  cause 
Of  this  or  that  in  Nature's  laws, 
Of  this  or  that  in  erring  man ; 
'Tis  but  in  vain  ye '11  try  to  scan 

The  inmost  soul !      The  promptings,  why 
Full  many  a  swain  have  stept  awry, 
Ye  cannot  tell, — yet  fain  would  ken : 
The  ink  had  frozen  in  the  pen. 

Unhappy  Miss!  pray  heed  the  laws 
Of  Nature's  God,  and  learn  the  cause 
Of  wayward  life.      Too  true  of  men, 
The  ink  congealeth  in  the  pen. 

Still  oft,  how  wondrous  hard  to  find 
What  shapes  the  frailties  of  mankind! 
296 


ENDURE    HARDNESS. 

Or  how  to  heal  a  hapless  wound, 

From  "the  green-eyed  monster"  creeping  'round 

Imagined  wrongs  are  bitter  foes; 
Seek  to  avoid  unwelcome  woes, 
And  learn  forsooth,  'tis  not  complaint, 
That  makes  "a  Joseph"  or  a  saint; 

But  love  so  true,  so  prompt  and  pure, 
As  through  all  trials  to  endure, 
It  melts  the  frigid  hearts  of  men ; 
And  sure,  the  ink  will  "go  it"  then. 
297 


AN   AUTOGRAPH. 


THIS  lyric  is  addressed  to  the  author's  Patrons.  Seven  books  containing 
their  signatures  are  delivered  to  S.  K.  H.,  Esq.,  ex-President  of  the  Middlesex 
Mechanics'  Association,  to  be  deposited  in  their  public  library  for  preservation  and 
future  reference.  Their  names  were  appended. 


N  autograph  of  many  a  friend, 

Impressed,  you'll  find  it,  on  these 
My  "Merrimac,"  we  greeting  send, 
And  other  volumes — ne'er  to  lend, 

Through  Time's  eventful  future  ages. 
299 


AN   AUTOGRAPH. 

What  better  boon  could  I  bestow, 

To  thee  or  thine  in  friendship  kind? 
'Mid  toil  or  care  'tis  sweet  to  know, 
That  from  the  world  whene'er  we  go, 
We've  left  an  autograph  behind. 

2 
Here  will  you  find  a  favorite  name ; 

And  many  memories  call  to  mind, 
Ye '11  trace  perhaps  some  fault,  or  fame, 
Yet  soon  with  all  'twill  be  the  same, 

A  mere  memento,  left  behind. 

While  yet  ye  note  some  sign  of  age, 
Or  hardy  hand  or  youthful  mind, 
If  generous  hearts  your  thought  engage, 
Ye '11  find  them  written  on  the  page 
Of  autographs,  here  left  behind. 

And  while  ye  seek  the  joys  that  flow 

From  faithful  friend  or  neighbor  kind, 

300 


KINDLY    GIVEN. 

'Twill  grateful  be  to  feel  and  know, 
The  heart  that  felt  another's  woe, 
Hath  left  an  autograph. 

Then  if  adown  the  leaf  across, 

A  soldier  brave  ye  seek  and  find, 

'Tis  he  who  counts  the  world  but  dross, 

In  truth  a  soldier  of  the  cross 
Hath  left  an  autograph. 

And  if  ye  follow  further  o'er, 

Still  true  to  charity  inclined, 
Ye '11  find  the  hand  that  fed  the  poor, 
That  noble  soul,  to  be  no  more, 
Hath  left  an  autograph. 

All  these  ye '11  count  with  candid  grace, 
As  true  and  just; — to  faith  inclined; 

All  in  thine  heart  shall  find  a  place, 

Descendants  of  a  Saxon  race, 

Of  noble  blood  and  lofty  mind. 
301 


AN   AUTOGRAPH. 
3 

Far  from  a  wave -worn,  barren  bluff, 

We're  outward  bound; — yet  fain  would  find, 
Beyond  the  angry  billows,  rough, 
A  sphere  congenial — 'tis  enough, — 
A  brief  memorial  left  behind! 

Down  that  dark  wave,  still  going,  gone, 

A  train  aloof — we  follow  near, — 
Yet  when  an  hundred  years  have  flown, 
What  though  we'll  wander  back,  unknown  — 
Vain! — vain  to  seek  a  comrade  here! 

Whom  we  may  see  at  that  far  day, 

At  the  native  home  or  in  the  hall; 
What  we  will  know  or  feel  to  say, 
To  pilgrims  here,  then  on  their  way 
Remains  a  mystery  for  all. 

Yet  will  we  scan,  bright  rolling  down, 
Our  proud  old  Merrimac  amain; 
302 


ONE    HUNDRED    YEARS. 

How  gladly  then,  when  Lowell  town, 
In  vast  progression  and  renown 

Looms  up  in  beauty,  once  again ! 

Lo!   then  we'll  trace,  with  vision  keen, 

The  church  grown  old,  the  faded  dome ; 
The  deep  worn  street,  we  once  had  seen, 
The  giant  shade -trees  on  the  green, 

And  the  marble  crumbling  at  the  tomb! 

Then  down  the  way  seen  there,  at  will, 

The  full-grown  throngs  that  crowd  the  gate, 

The  shop,  the  school  -  house,  and  the  mill, 

In  every  vale,  on  every  hill, 

With  strange  inventions  made  of  late. 

Ardent  at  work  we'll  note,  as  now, 
The  lawyer,  doctor,  and  divine, 
Each  in  his  place,  and  further  how 
The  gardner,  trudging,  drives  his  plow, 

Increased  ten -fold  from  the  olden  time. 
303 


AN  AUTOGRAPH. 

We'll  see  the  merchant  at  his  trade, 

With  all  the  hosts  that  toil  for  gain, 
Of  every  kindred,  name  and  grade, 
Deep  hoarding  wealth,  with  schemes  well  laid, 
Still  heedless  of  fatigue  or  pain. 

Then  once  again,  list!   list  the  bell! 

It  chimes  afar,  from  yonder  steeple ! 
Grown  old  and  worn,  yet  sounding  well, 
Down  from  the  past  in  faith  to  tell : 

Sweet  memories,  true,  of  a  sainted  people  I66 

That  hundred  years — as  of  the  past, 

Old  TIME  keeps  tally,  quick  to  count  it, 

Nor  life,  nor  lot  hath  man  to  last ; 

Fixed  to  the  world  a  care  is  cast, 

Yet  faith  and  labor  shall  surmount  it. 

4 

This  is  no  gaudy  gift,  you  see, 

No  pearly  gem,  nor  gold  refined, 
30i 


OUB   MEMENTO. 

It  is  a  sign,  a  token  free, 
An  emblem  true  to  thine  and  thee, 
The  mark  of  an  immortal  mind. 

Lead  us  to  science,  love,  and  art, 

And  cherish  life's  memento,  true; 
'Tis  manhood's  noblest,  proudest  part, 
To  hold  that  golden  rule  at  heart, 

Which  heaven  prescribes  to  me  and  you. 
305 


OUR    PIONEERS. 


The  following  epic  was  addressed  to  the  daughters  of  New  England  on 
the  Contoocook  Island  in  New  Hampshire,  June  17,  1874,  at  the  unveiling  of 
the  granite  statue  which  stands  on  the  rise  of  ground  where  Hannah  Huston, 
with  Mary  Neff  her  maid,  and  Samuel  Leonardson  the  boy,  arose  at  midnight, 
and  in  front  of  the  wigwam  camp-fires  slew  ten  of  their  cruel  captors. 

These  victims  were  Indians,  who  with  their  tribes  at  Haverhill,  Mass  ,  fif- 
teen days  previously,  had  burned  down  nine  dwelling-houses,  killed  twenty - 
seven  of  its  inhabitants,  one  being  the  infant  daughter  of  our  heroine ;  and 
on  the  same  day  took  away  thirteen  captives.  The  monument  was  erected  as 
a  tribute  to  the  faithfulness,  endurance,  and  valor  of  the  primeval  New-Eng- 
land mothers. 

[MATERNAL,  HISTORIC,  PROGRESSIVE.] 

1 

YE  daughters  fair,  from  many  a  town 
Of  the  noblest  stock  in  the  world's  renown, 
We've  come  to  lay  our  trophies  down 

Here  at  thy  feet. 

Your  hopeful  halves,  your  little  ones, 
The  force  and  valor  of  your  sons, 
Your  love  at  heart,  warm  as  it  runs, — 
We  grateful  greet. 

306 


TRIUMPHANT. 
2. 

We've  come  inspired  of  the  fond  old  mothers : 
Their  sainted  care  still  o'er  us  hovers ; 
Daring  in  deeds  transcending  others 

Mid  life's  relations. 
Their  kindly  natures,  firm  defial, 
Their  souls  triumphant  through  all  trial, 
To  truth  and  faith  and  self-denial 

We  bring  oblations. 

3. 

To  this  we've  come  from  the  mountain  side, 
Far  out  from  where  wild  waters  glide, 
Up  where  old  ocean  turns  her  tide 

To  memories  dear ; 

From  where  Mouadnoc  pours  her  rills, 
From  Franklin's  favored  wild- wood  hills, 
From  floods  afar  that  roll  their  mills, 

We  volunteer. 

4. 

We've  roamed  where  the  red  man  roamed  of  yore, 
On  many  a  highland  hunted  o'er, 
On  the  shores  where  oft  he  dipt  his  oar, 
Trailing  along. 

307 


PIONEERS. 

We've  stood  where  the  heaven-taught  Pilgrim  stood ; 
Out  from  the  fields  once  stained  of  blood, 
We  bring  glad  tidings  of  our  God ; 
We  swell  the  throng. 

5. 

Down  from  the  lakes  uncounted  numbers, 
From  mountains  mighty,  full  of  wonders; 
From  where  Niagara's  torrent  thunders, 

Vast  for  renown ; 
Far  up  from  Massachusetts  Bay, 
From  the  Heights  of  Abram,  the  other  way, 
We  hail  old  Contoocook  to-day, 

Still  rolling  down. 

6. 

Onward  as  ever,  balmy,  beauteous, 
'Neath  sun  or  cloud,  serene,  salubrious, 
To  God  and  man  forever  duteous, 

Ye  'move  amain ; 

Thy  banks,  thy  waves,  the  wild  deer  loved; 
Thy  power  the  tribes  of  yore  approved : 
Of  thee  the  pilgrim  heart  was  moved : 

Hail,  once  again ! 

308 


THE  CONTOOCOOK. 


THEIR   GREETINGS. 

7.  • 

Hither  we've  come  in  pathways  winding, 
Mid  light  and  shade,  and  sorrows  blinding; 
Yet  do  we  heed  fond  mothers  minding; 

From  above  they  look : 
Our  fathers,  too,  brave  spirits  they, 
Stand  high  on  many  a  cloud  to-day, 
To  greet  creation  on  the  way 

To  the  Contoocook. 

8. 

Sons  of  New  England,  daughters  too, 
There's  many  a  heart  in  faith  for  you, 
True  thanks  to  bring,  and  honors  due 

In  measures  double. 

For  generous  natures,  wa}-s  of  winning, 
For  faithful  house-wives,  frugal  spinning, 
For  orators,  your  dead  and  living, 

And  patriots  noble. 

9. 

For  husbandry  to  gladden  the  soil, 
For  hearts  that  beat  forftruth  and  toil ; 
Whose  rectitude  could  ne'er  recoil 
In  thought  or  deed ; 

309 


PIONEERS. 

For  men  of  learning,  men  of  light, 
Valiant  for  justice,  God,  and  right ; 
Translated  many,  they're  still  in  sight, 
We  give  them  heed. 

10. 

Your  Hiltons,  Thompsons,  Pilgrims  pure, 
Their  fame,  their  faith,  shall  ever  endure ; 
Your  Putnams,  Stark,  and  Molly,  sure,  — 

All,  all  are  here. 

Your  natives  and  primeval  comers, 
Your  Waldrons,  Wentworths,  and  your  Plummers, 
Uncounted  souls  of  bygone  summers, 

Bring  memories  dear. 

11. 

Your  Sullivans,  your  Masons  meet  us ; 
Your  Websters,  Greeleys,  Woodburys  weet  us; 
Most  graciously  they've  come  to  greet  us : 

We  hail  them  nigh. 
Brave,  welcome  spirits,  sainted,  fair ; 
The}r  linger  in  the  purple  a* 
With  whisperings  vague,  yet  vocal  there : 

They're  from  on  high. 

310 


THE    REVOLUTION. 
12. 

They  mind  us  of  primeval  3rears, 

Of  Indian  war-whoop,  death,  and  tears ; 

When  faith  in  Pilgrim  pioneers 

Came  forth  revealed. 
How,  when  the  British  lion  roared, 
And  tax  and  tea  went  overboard, 
And  shot  and  shell  and  powder  poured 

On  the  crimson  field. 

13. 

How  first  the  fathers  took  their  station 
Against  a  reckless,  rude  taxation, 
To  avert  the  heartless,  vile  vexation 

Of  war  :    'twas  vain  ! 
Then  how  the  firelock,  rusty  old, 
True  Yankee  valor  did  unfold, — 
Of  this  ten  thousand  things  are  told, 

Far  known  of  fame. 

14. 

And  how,  when  seven  years  had  flown, 
Victorious  veterans  to  the  toW'n, 
Homeward  in  squads  came  limping  down 

In  broken  ranks ; 

311 


PIONEERS. 

The  uniform,  the  cornered  hat, 
The  gaiters,  breeches,  and  all  that ; 
And  hearts  of  maidens  "pit-a-pat" 
Made  mazy  pranks. 

15. 

Grave  men  and  mothers  gathered  nigh ; 
Strange  acclamations  fill  the  sky: 
Magnanimous  manhood  stands  on  high, 

In  garnished  glory. 

They'd  waded  through  tempestuous  war, 
Their  flesh  all  furrowed,  seam,  and  scar, 
Ten  thousand  tongues  proclaimed  afar 

A  tragic  story. 

16. 

Peace  came,  and  plenteousness  combine, 
{rood  manners  crowned  that  olden  time ; 
And  the  God  of  love  gave  da3-s  divine 

To  the  Pilgrim  sons. 

Their  daughters  too,  taught  well  of  the  mothers, 
Loved  labor  then  as  did  their  brothers, 
And  held  it  high  to  all  the  t'others, 

Their  little  ones. 

312 


WAR   OF  1812. 
17. 

Health  moved  that  meek  advancing  train: 
From  war  and  blood  it  bloomed  again ; 
And  the  night-cloud  dark  at  length  became 

Fair,  glorious  morn; 
The  forest  fed  her  buds  anew ; 
The  flowery  fields  beamed  bright  with  dew ; 
And  the  harvests,  prompt,  were  generous  too, 

In  golden  corn. 

18. 

Thus  had  the  generations  flown, 
Prolific,  true  in  faith  their  own, 
When  a  war-trump  bleak  again  is  blown 

These  vales  along. 

It  doomed  the  port  to  a  sad  seclusion 
Inflated  fear  to  a  fierce  confusion, 
A  waste  of  wealth  and  destitution 

To  the  Yankee  throng. 

19. 

It  roused  the  realm  to  resolution, 
At  Little  Harbor,  constitution, 
Vociferous  crowds  for  revolution, 
Flagrant  they  swell ; 

313 


PIONEERS. 

They'd  come  to  beard  the  British  lion, 

In  Devil-daring  to  defy  'im, 

With  bombshells  huge  to  tease  and  try  'im, 

And  give  'im  h — 11. 

.      20. 

Hail,  hail,  that  hero  here  to-day, 
Who  stood  high  up  in  battle  array 
With  a  soul  on  fire,  came  forth  to  obey 

His  country's  call ! 

They're  like  the  leaf  last  on  the  tree,  — 
Mild  mariners  of  a  stormy  sea : 
They're  a  glorious  pattern  for  you  and  me: 

Thanks,  thanks  for  all ! 

21. 

Then  fifty  years  of  plenteous  peace 
Fed  well  the  folds  with  a  rich  increase, 
And  gave  to  the  land  a  full  release 

From  waste  and  care ; 
Meanwhile  old  Dame  inspired  her  throngs, 
And  the  beauteous  birds  sung  well  their  songs, 
To  the  heavens  afar  triumphant  tongues, 

Made  music  there. 

314 


THE    REBELLION. 
22. 

Earth  pregnant  filled  her  ranks  humane, 
Full  many  a  state,  a  vast  domain ; 
And  the  gods  on  high  were  proud  again 

Of   a  nation  noble. 
High,  then,  alas !    revolving  time 
Upturned  the  world  to  a  dread  decline : 
Rebellion  born  of  hell  and  crime 

Draped  earth  in  trouble. 

23. 

Thence  came  forebodings  of  the  morrow, 
A  people  pale,  oppressed  of  sorrow, 
Portentous  war  of  blood  and  horror, 

A  world  of  woe. 

But  victory  turned  that  cloud  away; 
And  brighter  glimmered,  o'er  the  way, 
All  round  the  world  a  better  day, 

Above,  below. 

24. 

Thus  do  the  waves  of  strife  betide 
The  path  of  mortals  in  their  pride; 
And  Fate  and  Fortune  side  by  side 
Trudge  in  the  train ; 

315 


PIONEERS. 

High  now,  afar  from  foe  or  fears, 
We've  never  a  danger,  dearth,  nor  tears : 
Entranced  we  greet  the  happy  years: 
(Hail !)  all  hail  again  ! 

25. 

Brief  thus  hath  history  told  the  tale, 
That  saw  the  sunshine,  storm,  and  gale, 
Since  Mother  Duston  followed  the  trail 

• 

Of  the  Pennacook ; 

Down  thence,  they  say,  there's  been  no  lack 
Of  sainted  souls  on  the  Merrimack, 
Far  in  the  cloud  oft  coming  back 

To  the  Contoocook. 

26. 

Thanks !    thanks,  we  give  for  a  world  begun, 
For  duties  daily,  promptly  done, 
For  glorious  victories  nobly  won, 

For  life  and  love ; 
For  holiness  and  hearts  upright, 
For  peace  and  plenty,  gospel  light, 
For  sun  and  moon  and  the  stars  at  night, 

And  a  heaven  above ; 

316 


THE    UNVEILING. 

27. 

For  a  God  who  moves  the  minds  of  men 
To  generous  deeds,  illustrious  when 
They  lift  the  heart,  the  hand,  the  pen, 

To  a  lofty  custom ; 

To  a  gift  from  the  sculptor's  graphic  hand, 
An  emblem  glorious  and  grand, 
Unveiled  to  the  world  for  aye  to  stand,  — 

Our  Mother  Duston ! 


317 


THE    MEKEIMAC 


AND   ITS  INCIDENTS, 


MY   MORNING   KAY, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS. 


THREE    VOLUMES    IN    ONE. 
VOL.  III. 


With  Notes  appended. 


Co  tfje 
BEY.  THEODORE   EDSOtf,  D.  D. 

FIRST    EECTOK    O»   THB 

FIRST  CHURCH  (ESTABLISHED  IN  1824)  IN  LOWELL,  "THB  FIELD* 

WHERE 

ELLIOT, 

IN    1674,   PREACHED   TO   THE   TRIBES   OF 

WONALANCET, 

THIS    VOLUME   IS    RESPECTFULLY   DEDICATED. 


THE  MEBEIMAC. 


jELESTIAL  Bards !  in  magic  numbers  skilled 
We  thee  invoke ;  ivho,  blest  with  music  filled, 
Chant  high  in  heaven  above,  yet  present 

here, 

Deign    oft   to   witness   in    this    earthly    sphere 
What   mortals   do,  and   what   of  good   or  ill 
In   truthful   song  is    celebrated    still, 
And   what   of  beauty    grand   in    Nature    lives, 
What   Heaven   ordains   and  what  experience    gives, 
Yet   left   unsung,  —  inspired  attend,   repair 
Up   to   yon    mountain-top,  in   regions   fair, 
Where    prospect    wide   above    the    woodland    shade 

Unfolds    the    works   creative    wisdom    made, — 
323 


THE   MERR1MAC. 

Survey   proud   Merrimac,1   whose   praise   we    sing, 
And   to   mine   aid  gome   grateful  measure  bring,— 
Some   note    of  landscape   grand   in   dale   and   hill, 
Adorned    with    glittering   lake,  cascade,  or   rill. 
With   forest   wild,  with    winding   wave   between 
The    giant   groves   along   the   valley    green; 
Pair   floral   regions   sweet   at   early   dawn, 
And   fields    of  lilies   in   the   dewy    lawn, — 
Whatever   thy    vision   meets,    o'er   all   the   plain, 
From   mountain    height   to    ocean's   wide   domain. 
Of  rural   Nature   or   of  handy   Art, 
In    truthful   numbers   faithfully   impart. 
Nor  sights   alone   observe,   but  sound,   of  birds, 
The   lambkin-bleatings,   and   the    lowing   herds, 
The    cuckoo's   echo   at   the    close    of  day, 
And    wakeful   whippoorwill's    wild   warbling  lay, 
That  cheer  the  vale  ;  —  with  chime  of  village  bell, 
Which  wakes,  to  thought  divine,  Pilgrims  that  dwell 

324 


ITS    CREATION. 

Along  the   broad   highway,  —  whose  voices   swell 
Praises   to   Him  who   "  doeth   all   things  well;"  — 

With  these  and  more,  our  humble   song   indite, 
That   tend    to   raise   the    soul   by   Nature's   light 
To   light   of  Heaven,  and   to   the   fruitful   source 
Whence   all   things    came    to    pass   and   took  their 
course. 

Sweet  river  !  thy  true  source,  which  angels  sung 
At   the   creation   when   the   world   begun, 
We   seek;   and   how   thy   rills   of  chaos,  born, 
First   leaped,   rejoicing   in  their  native   form;  — 
When   bleak   New  England's  height  began   to   rise, 
And  moon  and  stars  just  formed  lit  up  the  skies ; 
How    the    Great   God    on    high,   with   outstretched 

hand, 

Divided   waters   from   the   massive   land, 
325 


THE   MERRTMAC. 

Scooped  the   vast   concave   of  the   ocean   bed, 
And   infant   channels   for  the   rivers   made ; 
And   how   and   when   his   wisdom   next  arranges 
To   move  the  stagnant  floods   by  natural  changes, 
Compel   the   seas   their   rugged   bounds  forsake, 
Becloud   the   hills,  and   shining   rivers   make ; 
To   make   thin   vapors,   heated   to   excess, 
On   ocean   more,   on   terra-firma   less, 
Out   from   the    briny   waves   incessant  rise 
Above   the   hills,   and   back   to   other   skies, 
Combine   in   clouds,   and   vast  collections   form, 
Spreading   the   heavens   with   impending   storm. 
Whence   earth   itself  full   formed   begins   to  move 
Through   mighty   conflicts   by   the   hand   of  Jove 
Outward  and  onward  from   its   native   source 

Round  with  the  whirling  spheres  to  take  its  course. 

i 

Now   theft   the   forked   light,  ascending   high, 
326 


ITS   FIRST  STORM. 

Unveils   the   terrors  of  a  troubled   sky  ; 
Tempestuous   gales   in   darkness    intervene, 
Sweeping   the    world   with   howlings   in  extreme 
And  thunderings  loud ;  the  clouds,  let  loose  in  drops, 
Dash   down   their  showers  on   the   mountain-tops. 

Then    leap    the    streamlets    from  the  mountain- 

waste 

As   if  by   stern   command   requiring   haste, 
As   if  God's   power   with   screw  and   lever  plied, 
Squeezing   the   lofty  hills   to   raise   the   tide, 
Would   drown   the   earth   in   awful   floods   sublime, 
For   local   sin,  or   want  of  faith   divine, 
As   since   in   wrath   he   did   in   Noah's   time. 

Thus   at  creation's   dawn   did   Merrimac 
Begin   to   flow.     The   storm   subsides,   and  light, 

Bright  gleaming  sunbeams,  broke  from  sable  night. 

327 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

And  now  the  Sweeping  Wave,  with  banks  o'erflown, 
Brilliant  and   grand,   'mid   azure    splendor  shone, 
Rolls  on,  —  and   with   accumulated   force 
Of  mighty    waters   on   their   destined   course 
Through    naked     banks,    ne'er    washed     by    waves 

before,  — 

Now   curving   o'er   the   cliff  with    dashing    roar 
Of  cataract ;    now   swelling  far   and    wide 
Down    sloping   vales    in    full  majestic  tide  | 
Then   gliding   smooth,   as   plain   or   meads    ensue, 
In   tranquil    pride    resplendent   bravely    through, 
Conveys   her   fountains   to   the   untried    shore 
Where  wave  or  flood  had  never  reached  before, — 

To   form   a  sea,  and    on   the    world   bestow 
A   vast   highway,    with   tides    to    ebb   and   flow  ; 
In   light    refulgent,   in   extent   sublime, 

To   swarm   with  joyous   life   through   endless   time, 

328 


CLOFPS   FROM    THE   SEA. 

To   float   huge   ships   in   commerce   and   in   strife, 
Of  unborn   nations,   waking   into   life. 
Through    constant   heat   her   atoms   rise   again 
Floating   in    transit   backward   whence   they   came, 
Feeding   the    stream    with    purer   founts   anew, 
Which,   made   eternal,   onward   still   pursue ; 
Both    flood    and   vapor   in    one    circuit   run, 
Like    planet   in    her   orb   about    the   sun, 
Or,  like   the    life-blood    coursing  through   the  vein 
By   means    of  arteries   return   again, 
Sustaining   man's   frail    body   from   his   birth, — 
So   moving   waters   do    the    vital   earth  ; 
Pervading   Nature's    germs  and   fibres   free, 
Upward   in    channels  creep  through  herb  and  tree, 
They    deck   the    daisy    in    her   checkered   bloom, 
And   swell   the   rose   to   yield   a   sweet  perfume, 
Are  felt  in  trunk,  in  branch,  in  bud  and  leaves, 
And  thence  escape  in  clouds,  borne  on  the  breeze;  — 
329 


THE  MERBIMAC. 

« 

Emblem   of  the   "  Eternal  1 "  in  their   round 
E'er  free   to   give,  but  ne'er  exhausted,   found. 

Next  near  the  shore  now  gliding  glittering  seen, 
Minnows   innumerous   in   the   waters   green, 
Minute   in   size,   some   faster   fuller   grown, 
Each   for  an   end,  yet  then   unseen,   unknown, 
In   caves  now   playful   cautious   prone   to   be, 
Then   out  in   depth   of  waters   sporting  free, 
Each  draws  from  Heaven  the  fleeting  breath  of  life, 
Here   to   subsist   through   elemental   strife, 
Varied   in  species,   color,  and   in   form, 
Some   cold   in   temperament,   others   warm, 
Each   to   its   kind   attached,   prolific,   free 
To   seek  and   share   a  common   destiny. 
In  lapse   of  time,  from   tiny  minim   grown, 
The  whale  loomed  up  in  vast  proportion  shown, — 
Now   restless   seeks  more  spacious   depths  to  gain, 

330 


ITS   FIRST   FISH. 

And   finds   a  homestead   in   the   briny  main. 
Huge  sturgeons,  too, —  all  fish  of  larger  growth, — 
Swelled  the  deep  .current  seaward,  splashing  forth  ; 
While    smaller   forms,   as   trout   and   pickerel, 
Inhabit   native  stream,  content   to  dwell 
Fresh-water   tenants,    tranquil    quite   as   yet, 
By   foe   unsought,   unhurt   by   hook   or   net. 

While   others   rove.     The   favorite   salmon   tries 
The   Arctic   seas,   in   light   of  other   skies ; 
Yet  oft  as  spring  betides   the    Merrimac, 
His  out-bound   path  he  fondly  follows   back 
With  finny  tribes.      Then  through  the  inlets  trace 
A   countless   progeny,   an   infant  race 
From  hidden  spawns,  to  swarm  the  harmless  shore, 
Then   gambol  outward,    onward,   as   before, 
Quiet,  yet  quick   in  transit   to   and   fro, 

E'er  keen   to  see,   what   makes    for   weal   or  woe, 

331 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

They  drink   sweet  joys   in  light   of  nature   given, 
And   fill   a   purpose   grand,  ordained   of  Heaven. 

Meanwhile  the  tree  for  fruit  and  forest,  sprung 
From   latent  life  beneath   the   soil,  begun 
To   spread   in   varied   shadows   mother   earth, 
Verdant  and   fruitful ;   in  productive   birth, 
Alike   of  insects   strange,   of  beast  or  bird, 
In  pairs  connubial,  fit   for  flock   or  herd. 
As   thus   'mid   thicket  dense,  or   bower   green^ 
In   earth   or  air,   at  first  half  hidden   seen, 
The   merest  mites;  —  thence   formed  and  fluttering 

move, 

Unfeathered   owls,  the  raven,  hawk,  and  dove ;  — 
Whence   flaunts   the   eagle  due   in  course   of  time, 
And   songsters,  warbling,  wing  for   every  clime. 
Whence   all   the   nervy   tenants   of  the   air, 
From   proudest  swan  to   flitting  insect  rare ; 

RR2 


THE   FIRST   INDIAN. 

Whence    clods   of  earth   and   drops  of  water  pure, 
First   fraught  with   life,   with   life   can   but   endure. 

Of  tardy   growth   sleek   whelps   in   tiny   form, 
From   latent   caverns   in   the   hill-side  warm, 
Of  lion   race,  and   beasts   of  other   kind, 
At   length   emerge   and   habits   varied   find. 

Then   next  from  curious  germ  beneath  the  sod, 
Now   blest   in   needful   care    of  Nature's    God, 
Whose   eye   all-seeing   here   began   to   scan 
The   strange   invention   of  mysterious  man, — 
By   vigorous   thrift,   as   fell   the   beaming   rays 
Of  Phoebus,   fitly    felt   on    vernal   days, 
Came    forth   an   Indians*    infant   form   divine, 

»  The  natives  were  called  Indians  by  Columbus  through  mistake, 
who  at  first  supposed  he  had  arrived  on  the  eastern  shore  of  India, 
by  which  error  they  took  their  name. 

333 


THE   MEREIMAC. 

First   spawn   of  manhood   on   the   stream   of  time; 
Basking   in   valleys   wild,   earth-formed,   earth-fed 
For   ripened   age,  —  by   native   reason   led, 
And   chief  o'er   beast   and   bird   in   power   became 
A   fitful   terror   to   the   timid   game. 

Increased  at  length   by  nature's   self-same   laws 
To   numerous   tribes   prolific,   men   and   squaws, 
From   artful   wigwams   new,  spread   o'er  the   land, 
First   skill   evinced   in   architecture   grand, 
He   wanders   wild,   belted    with   arrows   keen, 
And  blest  with  knowledge  right  and  wrong  between, 
A   stately   Priest  at   peace.     Provoked   to   strife, 
He    wields   a  hatchet  and   a   scalping-knife 
With   dire   revenge.     E'er  true  to  self  and  squaw 
He   knows   no   faith,   no   code,   but  Nature's   law. 
His   footsteps   fondly   dwell   where   now   we   trace 
Primeval   heirlooms  of  the   human   race ; 

334 


INDIAN   INVENTIONS. 

The   chisel   smooth  and  tomahawk  first  made 
Of  stone,  ere   Art  had  formed   the   iron   blade ; 
Where,   from   a  narrow   dock   with   native   crew, 
He   launched,   in   naval   pride,   the   first  canoe 
And   ploughed   the   Merrimac.     His   dripping   oar 
Ripples   the   waters   never  pressed  before, — 
Bestirs  the   scaly   tribes  to  nervous   fear 
For   rights   most   sacred   thus   invaded   here. 
As   if  by   instinct   they   the   chieftain   knew 
To   be   a   tyrant  and   a   glutton   too, 
Intent   on   native   beast,   on   bird   or   fish, 
By   slaughter   dire    to   fill   a   dainty   dish ; 
Whose   webs  are   nets  from   bark   of  trees  alone, 
And  mills  that  grind  are  mortars  made  of  stone ; 
Who  clothed   his   tribes,  if  clad   they  e'er  appear, 
In   raiment   plundered  from   the  bounding   deer; 
Who  maketh  treacherous  hooks  from  guiltless  bones, 
And   drags   a  deadly   net   o'er   sacred   homes. 

335 


THE   MEfiBDtAC. 

And  thus,  o'er  land  and   stream  for  ages   long, 
A   race   of  red  men,  vagrant,  plod  along, 
With  language,  taught  from  rustic  Nature's  throne, 
And   habits,   each   peculiarly   their   own ; 
On   growth   spontaneous   fed,   content   with   prey, 
What   serves   the   purpose  of  a   single    day. 
Their   God   is   seen   afar   at   rise   of  sun ; 
Their  life   in   heaven   is   hunting   here    begun; 
By   laws   unwritten,   Sachems   rule   the   tribes, 
And   lead   the   host,   wherever   ill   betides, 
To   fatal   war.      By   force    of  arrows,   hurled, 
They  reigned  sole  monarchs  in  this  western  world. 

The  countless  years  thus  passed  of  man's  career, 
Fraught   with  achievements   oft   enacted  here ; 
With   works   of   skill,    what    human    thought   could 
do  ; 

With  grand  exploits,  or  deeds  of  direful  hue; 

336 


SIR  FRANCIS  DRAKE. 

[From  an  old  English  painting.] 


OLD   8QUANTO. 

With  kings  and  prophets,  chief  in  note  or  worth, 
Through   generations   vast, .  transpired   on   earth, 
Make    but   a   blank   in   time's   historic    lore, 
Till   voyagers   from   another   world   came   o'er;  — 
Columbus   first   of  all ;    then   many  more 
Within   a  hundred   years    then   next,   before 
The    Pilgrims   land,3 — adventurers   indeed, — 
From  Adam  sprung,  juniors  in  race  and  breed, 
But   versed   in   letters,  statute   law,  and  art, 
Seniors   in   science,  just   in   head   and   heart. 

They  meet  old   SQUANTO  wandering  here  alone, 
Who,  sore  depressed,  bereaved  of  friends  and  home, 
Recounts   events   which   true   tradition   brought, 
Of  Indian   life,   what  sad   experience   taught, 
How,   far  and   near,  the  dead   unburied   lay, 
His   own   Patuxet   tribes   all   swept  away ; 
Yet  nations   seaward,   deep   in   woods   afar,. 

337 


THE    MERRIMAC. 

Spared   from   the   scourge  of  pestilence   and  war, 
Still    thrive.      There   Massasoit,  whose   power  main- 
tains 
The    peace   of  tribes,   in   full   dominion   reigns. 

From   thence    SAJIOSET   comes,   with    heart    and 

hand, 

To  "  welcome  Englishmen "  and   grant  them   land , 
His    visage   dark    with   long   and    raven   hair, — 
No  treacherous  marks  his  beardless  features  bear; 
With   frame   erect   and   strangely   painted    o'er, 
Belted   around   his   loins,   a   Sagamore, 
Whose   bony  arm   a   bow   and   arrow   held, 
A   heart   unsoiled    his   tawny   bosom    swelled 
To  generous  deeds.      He  broken  English  spake, 
And   talked    anon   of  men,  —  of  Francis    Drake,8 
That   gallant   white  man,  years   before   who   came, 

And   gave   New  Albion   her  historic  name,  — 

338 


KING    MAfSASOIT. 

Of  Captain   Smith  who   since   surveyed   the   coast, 
And    other    voyagers,   now   a   scattered   host,  — 
Of  former   days   some   history   tried   to   give, 
And   "  lay   of  land "  where   rambling  red  men  live. 
Truthful   SAMOSET   proves,   and  seeks   to   bring 
The   Pilgrim   saints   in  audience   with   his   king. 

Then   Massasoit,   the   king,  and    chiefs   appear ; 
As  well   the  governor   and   suit   draw  near, 
By   music   led,   and   soldiers   at  command, 
Clad   in   the   homespun  of  a  foreign   land, 
And   greet  the  king.      The  king  no   armor  bears, 
Save   on   his   breast  a  knifelike   weapon   wears, 
White   beads   about   his   neck,   a   gaudy   ring, 
And   quaint   tobacco   bag,   suspended   by   a   string, 
Comprise   the   insignia   of  his   regal   power, 

Known  and   observed    of  nations   as  of  yore. 

839 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

Both    king    and    chiefs,   with    painted    features, 

wear 

Feathers   disjoined   from   birds    of  plumage   rare, 
But  little   else.     Kindly   in   turn   they   greet4 
The  Pilgrim   band,  and   down   in   group   now  seat 
Themselves,   holding  discourse   of  allied   strength 
In  treaty,6   and,   when   all   agreed,   at  length, 
They   pass   the   pipe   around,  each  drink'   in   turn. 
A   sacred   compact   thus   they   all   confirm, — 
A  treaty  wise,  that  full   contentment  gives 
For  fifty   years   while   Massasoit  lives. 

SQUANTO  meanwhile  who'd  served  a  peaceful  end, 
And   in   the   Pilgrims'   God  had  found   a  Friend 
Bereaved   and   worn   by   care  of  bygone  years 
In   mazy   pathways   through   a  vale   of  tears, 
Falls   sick ;   and   as .  by   fever   low   depressed, 

And   life   in   doubt,   to  Pilgrims   thus   addressed 

340 


TISQUANTUM'S  WILL. 

His  sovereign  will:  "This  hunting-ground  is  mine; 
The  lakes,  the  vales,  those  mountain  heights  sublime, 
The  green-grown  banks  where  Merrimac  bright  glows 
And  all    the  hills   far   as  Pawtucket   goes, — 
These   spacious  wilds,   my   kindred,   now   no   more, 
In   full   dominion  held,   and   hunted   o'er ; 
Then   dying,   all   their   titles   thence   descend 
To   me,  TiSQUANTUM,7   now    so   near   this   end 
Of  life.     To  thee,  my  Pilgrim    Friends,   I   give 
This    broad    domain ;     here     may    the    white     man 

live ;  — 

My   bow  and   arrow,  too,  —  I   give   thee   all. 
Hence   let   me   go,  obedient   to   the  call 
Of  angel   Death.     Adieu  !  " 

Thus   gracious    dies 

The   last   red  man    beneath   Patuxet   skies, 
And   thus   the   English   sole   possession   share, 

By   will   from    SQUANTO,   all   this  region    fair, 

341 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

Forever   thence,   to   lay   the   forest   low, 
To  fence  fair  fields,  and  drive  the  crooked  plough, 
To    waste   the   wigwams   which   for  ages   spread 
The  wild,  and  build  broad  mansions  in  their  stead ; 
Schoolhouses,   temples   to   the    GOD    of  grace, 
And   cities    proud,   peculiar   to   the    race 
Of  Adam.      Diligent   through   honest  toil, 
They    reap   rich   harvest   from   the   virgin   soil. 
From    culture   urged   with   bold,   aggressive   sway, 
Wild   beasts,   becoming  frantic,   flee   away. 
As  ravenous   bears  and  moose   and  wolves   recede 
Black-cat-tle   and   the   noble   horse   succeed 
In   aid  of  husbandry.8      Full  flocks   abound  ; 
The   herds  increase   as   roll  the   seasons  round; 
The    desert  e'en,   through   culture's   grateful   care, 
Soon  set  with  fruit,  begins  to   bloom  and  bear; 
Fair   Nature   smiles   responsive   to   the   plan 

Of  faith   in   God   and   industry  of  man. 

342 


PHILIP  IN    COURT. 

Next   follows   war.      Dread   anarchy   appears, 
As   if  to   blast   the    crowning  thrift   of  years 
At   death    of  MASSASOIT.     Philip   succeeds 
As   king,0   and   hostile   to   the  whites   proceeds 
To   flagrant   deeds ;    and   first  of  all   in   time, 
A   native   priest,*   suspected  of  no   crime 
But   to   have   broached   a   secret   plot,   is   slain lo 
By    murderous   hand.     On    Philip   rusts   this   stain 
Of  blood ;   and   Justice   stern    but    waits   to    draw 
Her   penal    sword   by    force    of  English   law 
Against   the   natives.      'Tis   not   long   withheld ; 
By  strong   indictment   seized,  arraigned,  and   held, 
Tobias   and    confederates   are   tried 
By    petit-jury,    white    and    red   allied, 
Whose    doubtful  jurisdiction    Philip    pleads, 
And   to   address   the   Forum   thus   proceeds :  — 

*  John  Sassamon. 
343 


THE  MERRIMAC. 

•'What  right,  what  law,  these   prisoners   to   ar- 
raign 

Have   Englishmen   in  this   my  own   domain? 
What   lease   of  venue   from   allotted   lines 
To   make   invasion   and   adjudge    of  crimes  ? 
Why  seek   the    Indian's  life    in    guile   forlorn  — 
Of  these   three   men  of  native   mothers   born; 
Who,   one   and   all,   with   SASSAMON,   the   slain, 
Were  my  liege  subjects,  bound  by  laws  the  same 
Which   governed  tribes   a   thousand  years  ago, 
But   which    evaded    brings   an   endless  woe  ? 
What   mind,  what  project,  prompts   your  boundless 

sway 

But  hence   to   drive   the    red  man   far  away 
From  this  fair  lard,  his  birthright  and  his  wealth, 
And  hold  these  regions  vast  through  royal  stealth  ? 
With  flagrant  wrong  the  tribes  will  ne'er  concur. 

And   to   your   bold   intrusion   I   demur ! 

344 


PHILIP'S  WAR. 

My   subjects   here   an   English   court  may  try ; 
By   spurious  judgments,   they   may   fall  and   die ; 
Yet  vengeance  dread  shall  point  the  red  man's  steel, 
And   to   the   God   of  battles   I'll   appeal." 

Philip   withdrew,   and   ne'er   returned   again ; 
His   truthful    talk  was    uttered   but   in  vain. 
The   prisoners   held   and   thus   condemned   to   die 
Brought   darkness  gathering   o'er   the  western  sky. 
"  The   bloody   sunset "   and   the    forked   light 
That   broke   the    curtain   of  that   fearful   night, 
Awaking  English   matrons,  'mid   alarms, 
To   hug   sweet   infants  with   tenacious   arms, 
Foretold    gross   carnage  of  successive   years 
And   devastation   in   a   land   of  tears. 

True  to  his  word,  which  prudence  thus  defied, 

Philip   the   Pilgrims   fought,   and,   fighting,    died," 

345 


THE  MERBIMAC. 

With   countless   victims   by   the   self-same   blade, 
Which   mutual  madness   had   in   folly   made. 

And   which   in   blood   by   oft-recurring   strife 
Through   conflicts   desperate   kindled   into   life 
By  hate   implacable   still   lingering  long 
Avenges   PHILIP'S   death,   and   flagrant   wrong 
Remembered   well,   encroachments  rash,   designed, 
Repeated  oft,  as   self  had   long  inclined 
The  strangers  here.     But  through  the  lapse  of  time, 
Whence   wayward   hearts   to   better  faith   incline, 
Whence   discord  wanes   away,  —  then   truth   began 
To  shed  with   light   the  vagrant  paths   of  man ; 
Distracted   foes   their   errors   soon   discern, 
And   back   to   reason   once   again   return. 

Then  Peace,  that  welcome   harbinger   of  health, 

Of  generous  thrift,  foreshadowing  weal  and  wealth, 

346 


ADVENT    OF    PEACE. 

Brings  her  glad  tidings  down  and  cheers  the  land, 
With  prompt  good-will,  and  noble  deeds  at  hand, 
To   heal   the   broken   heart,   to   make   amends 
For   wilful    waste,   which   from   the   past   descends. 

Thence  this  fair  vale  from  mountain  to  the  main 
In   vernal   grandeur   buds   to   bloom   again, 
And   plenteous   harvest   with   her   golden   ears 
Crowning   the   prudence    of  progressive   years 
Adorns   the   field,   and    grace   triumphant   gives 
To   honest   toil.     Here    WONALANCET  19    lives 
Unscathed   by    war,   a   sachem   wise   and   true, — 
Of  fragment   tribes   still   roving   far  and   few 
Along   these    banks  where   PENNAKOOKISI  had   stood 
For   countless   years,   through   tempest,   storm,   and 

flood ;  — 
And   further   seaward   where   WAMESITU   lies, 

Still   well   intrenched,   a   wigwam   city   thrives, 

347 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

Rightly   reserved   the   home   of  hunters   here, 
A   fort   within,   and  habitations   dear 
To  friendly  red  men.     While  from  dearth  released, 
Prom  scourge  of  conflict  and  in  strength  increased, 
Through   many  a  favored   year   the  Pilgrim  mind, 
By   faith   and   works,   religious   freedom   find ; 
Such  as   the  Fathers   sought  and  had   foretold 
Should   come,   in   grace   abounding   as   of  old. 

At  length   the  French   with   England  disagree, 
Which  next  portends  what  carnage  hence  shall  be, 
What   man's   estate  must  prove,  —  a  varied   life ;  — 
From   quiet  peace   proceeds   terrific  strife; 
From    plenty,  dearth;   from   faith   and   virtue,   sin; 
From  health,   disease,   that   wages   war   within. 

Thus   strangely   intermixed   are   good   and   ill ; 

True   to   the   purpose   of  a   sovereign   will 

348 


MATERNAL    LOVE. 

Nature   but   thrives   by   fire   that   burns   within, 
From   planets  broken,  other   worlds   begin. 
Yet   bloody    conflicts,  such  the    world   abhor 
As   mark   the   advent  of  avenging  war; 
And    such   the    crime   that   now   involves   the   race, 
Fraught   with   its   cruel   curse   and   deep   disgrace, 
That  through    successive   years   again   devours 
The   vital   substance   of  contending  powers. 

From  war-whoops   wild,  and    earth    in   crimson 

glow, 

A  wail   goes   up,  —  a  note   of  woman's  woe  I 
Fierce  vengeance   tempts   her  singleness  of  heart, 
Her  heroism  true,  her  guileless  art, 
Her  purity,  her   own  maternal  care, 
Her  faith   in  God,   that   never   knows   despair, 
Her  love   indeed,   that   triumphs   most   and   best 

In  trial  sad,   when   most   by   danger   pressed ; 

349 


THE  MERRIMAC. 

Whose  truth  endures,  when   fails   our  vital  breath, 
Inspires  fond  hope,  and  smooths  the  bed  of  death. 

Such   were    the    hearts    whose    wails   went    up 

afar, 

That  brooked   the  fury   of  King  William's   War;" 
Whose  just  protection,  savages  defied, 
And   dearest  hopes   of  house  and   home   denied; 
Around  her  hearth   from   hidden   ambush   springs 
The  lurking  foe,   and   death,   with   horror,   brings. 

And    this  is  war!  —  and   such   in   wrath  makes 

haste 

To   lay   the  white   man's  cot  and   village  waste ; 
That  deals  in  daggers  poisoned, — coated  o'er, — 
The  fagot  torch,   and   gluts   on   human   gore. 

Against  such   crime  the   settlers   strong   unite ; 
350 


HANNAH   DU8TON. 

In   various   ways   they   rally   for   the   fight ; 
Some    seek   defence   by   force    of  gun   and   dogs ; 
Some   take   to   garrisons,   strong   built   of  logs, 
And   some   in   squads   with   weapons   rude  assail 
The  foe,   and   fierce   pursue   the   bidden   trail. 
'Twas   so   at   NEWBURY  and  at    BRADFORD   TOWN, 
Far   further   north   and   seaward  further   down, 
Along   the   vale   where'er   the   white   man   dwelt, 
Still   unprovoked   the   selfsame    scourge    was   felt. 

And  at  old  HAVERHILL,  as   "  MATHER  " "  tells, 
The   flaring  fagot   burns    where   DUSTON  dwells. 
That   faithful   father,   frenzied   to    dismay, 
Hastens   the   flight   of  children   far  away, 
But  not   the   infant ;   that  in   wrath   is   slain. 
Its   mother,   captured,    trudges   in   the   train 
Of  savages ;    while   in   the   clouds   are   showD 

The   crackling   ruins   of  an  English  home. 

351 


THE  MERRIMAC. 

The   tribes   evade   pursuit;   they  skirt  the   glen, 
Fast  hastening  through  the  fields  away,  and  then 
Dense   woods   and   sable   night   conceal   the  foe ;  — 
There,  couched  on  broken  boughs  in  beds  of  snow, 
Repose    they    seek.     Still   mindful   of  the   past, 
Her  heart   depressed,  by  sleep   benumbed   at  last, 
There   dreams   that  mother,   weary,   sick,   at   rest, 
Of  happy  home,  —  of  father,   children   blest,  — 
Of  life's   sweet  joys   profusely,  kindly   given, — 
Of  angel   visits   from   the    throne   of  Heaven, — 
Of  that  true   bliss   religious   life   inspires, 
That  wafts   the   soul  above   earth's  frail   desires, — 

Thus    moved     congenial    thought    her    dreamy 

mind 

As  moved  that  mighty   forest   in   the  wind,  — 
Thus,  on,  —  till  twilight  gray  with   breaking   beam 

Now  turns  the  tenor  of  a   fleeting   dream; 

352 


GHOSTS    APPEAR   T-»    HER. 

When    half  aroused,   before    her    vision   gaze 
Appear  grim  visages  and   fagot   blaze ;  — 
Tall  spectres,  gaunt,  whose  garments  drip  with  gore 
From   that   infanticide  the    day    before, 
Wrought  strange  convulsions.       Whence  that   fear- 
ful  wail? 
'Twas   Hannah  Duston,17    waking  for  the   trail. 

Her   dark   brown    hair   back    on    her    shoulders 

spread, 

The   frosts   of  night  still   on   her   garments  laid1. 
At   sight  of  death,  at   sound   of  war-whoop  cry, 
Avenging  justice  flashes   in   her  eye ; 
Still,  far   beyond  the   cloud-capt   tree-tops,   shown. 
There   gleamed   in   prospect  yet   another  home ; 
Light   paints   a  tinge  upon  her  pallid   brow, 
And   up   to    God   above   she   made   a  vow ; 
For   on   the   trees  are   marks   of  kindred   blood, 

353 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

And   vengeance  just   is    whispered    in   the    wood. 
Firm   as   the    granite   hills  that   brave  the   storm, 
That   mother's   will   is  Jixed,   and  waxes   warm. 
Yet   held   to    follow    through    the    rugged  way, 
Kept   equal   step   for    many   a   weary   day 
!"(7Twas    death   to   falter   'mid   a   savage    throng) 
With   Mary   Neff18   and   boy;19  all   move   along 
Through  winding  paths  and   tangled  wildwood  fens, 
Where    prowled    the    wolf,   and    where   the    serpent 

dens, 

Declivities   they   wind,   and    ford    the   brooks 
That   leap   the   mountain   pass   from   granite  rocks ; 
Thence    in   dark   thicket,   then   in    sunlight    gleam, 
And    then  in   boats    of  birch  on    spacious   stream, 
Up    where   old    Coritoocook   unites   in    pride 
With   Merrimac,   profound   in    rolling   tide ; 
There,   on    an   island   ivild,   are    captives   shown 

The  wigwam   rude,  an   Indian's  favored   home. 

354 


TRIBES   ASLEEP. 

And   there  on  mats,  around   the  camp-fire  flame, 
Seated   in   group,  they  glut   the  slaughtered   game, 
Which  hunger  sought;  and  night,  now  gathering  in, 
Spreads   her   dark   mantle   o'er   the   woods  within ; 
While   from   afar,   a   gentle    zephyr   breeze 
Plays   grateful   music   on   the   waving   trees, 
Inviting  rest  from   th'   rambling   drudge    of  day, 
That  lulls   the   spirit  from   the    world   away. 

Still   does   that   zephyr  omens   strange    portend, 
A   baleful   bickering,  some   tragic   end; 
Yet  ne'er  more  safe,  ne'er  less  by  danger  pressed, 
Than   felt  the   drowsy   foe    reclined   at   rest;  — 
And  sleep  sonorous,  which    fatigue   inspires, 

Drowns   deep  the  tribe  in  front  of  midnight  fires. 

« 

Then   rose   that   mother,  noiseless,  moving  near 

To   Neff,  breathes   mandates   startling   to    her   ear; 

355 


THE  MERRIMAC. 

To   Samuel,   too,   her  vent   of  vengeance    went 
That  fired  his  heart.     They  move  with  joint  intent 
And   signal   stealth.     Around   the   foe   they   felt, 
And   drew   a  tomahawk   each,  from   the  belt, 
That  touched  his  loins;   and  then  erect  they  stand 
Lifting   that   bloody  blade  with   heedful   hand ;  — 
Down   on   his  guilty  head,  three  times  they  strike, 
And   three  times   three  DEATH  follows,  each  alike. 

No   groan  nor  sigh  is  heard,  nor  sign  of  woe ; 
But   stiff  and   cold   there  lies   the   bloody   foe 
'Neath  clou  da  of  night ;  the  wigwam  embers  fade,  — 
And    phantom-shadows   stalk   along   the   glade 
In  depth  of  woods.     The  hills  are  hushed  aloof, — 
No   voice,  save   from   the   owl   or   hungry   wolf, 

• 

That   clamors   for  his  prey. 

Yet  as   these   three, 

Once   captive   bound,  now   turn   away,   thtis  free, 

356 


IN   THE   CANOE. 

Bright    beaming   stars,   through    parted   clouds   be- 
tween, 

True   guides   intent   from   Heaven's   arch   serene, 
Look   down;    while   truth,  still    valiant   to    prevail 
O'er   wrong,   and  justice    stern   with   even   scale, 
Approve   the   deed;    and   from   that   crimson  glade, 
That   dark,   lone    wigwam    with   unburied   dead, 
Relieved,  yet   sad,   they    board   a  light   canoe 
To  dip   the   oar  in   hope    of  home,    pursue 
Adown   bright   Merrimac  in    generous   tide, 
That    bears    the    craft    on    high     through    borders 

wide,  — 

Thence   paddling  east,  they   gain   a  favored   shore 
Above   the   fall,   where   troubled   waters   roar 
Below,  —  all   safe   at   land. 

The   day-star  rose, 

Nature   anon   awakes   from   night's   repose, 
Wild  birds   from   far   thick   gathered   in   the   trees 

357 


THE    MERRJMAC. 

Warble   sweet   welcome    on   the  morning  breeze 
To   strange   adventurers ;    while   all   that   day 
Along  the   winding   shore   that  leads   the   way 
To  Haverhill,   they   thoughtful  trudge   and   talk, 
What   each   had   seen   in   life's  bewildered   walk,  — 
Of  childhood   years  beguiled  with   favorite   toys, — 
Of  love, —  of  home    delights, —  of  buried  joys. 

Thus   did   the   women   mutual   converse   hold, 
Till   Samuel   from   mutest    manner   cold 
Bespoke   them   thus.     "  What  mean   these   signs  of 

pain? 
These   crimson   marks    that    through   my   garments 

stain  ? 

Did   such   from   veins   of  Bampaco   descend, 
Who    gave    me   bow   and    arrow   as   a   friend? 
Truth   undisguised   these   morning  beams   disclose, 
The    sure   avenger   of  his   dying   woes ! 

358 


MARY  TO   SAMUEL. 

Unwelcome   tints !    they   haunt  my  homeward    way 

And   at   the    threshold    threatened^  to    betray 

Me   there.     Shall    I,   long-lost,   a   mother's    boy, 

Return  and  pangs   impart   instead   of  joy 

To  such  a  heart  ?     No,  —  leave  me  here ;   unknown 

To   seek   some    hidden    cave   aloof  from    home ; 

Or   send    me,    captive    bound,    to    dwell  again 

In   tents,   afar   from    her    who    mourns   me    slain, — 

Whence    crime    concealed   shall    never  vent   a  stain 

Nor   rumor   sad   to    blot   a   cherished   name." 

He   said,  and   there   half  halting   stood 

Till    Mary    chides   him    in   a   different  mood ;  — 

"  I   pray   thee,   Samuel,   list  to   me   awhile,  — 
Misgivings   sad   attend    but  to   beguile 
Thy   youth.     But   list,  —  they    move    me   to    descry 
In    wrong,   if  thou    art   guilty,   so    am    I; 

3o9 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

For   at  the   war-whoop   cry   I    could   have   fled, 
And   shunned   captivity,  its   horrors   dread ; 
Yet   would   not  yield   to   fate   that   infant   dear, 
Nor   fail   my   mistress   kind   through   selfish  fear. 
Alarmed,   I    seized   it   from   the   cradle   there ;  — 
That   life,   I   begged   a   furied   fiend   to   spare 
At   risk   of  self.     Yet   we    no   favor   gain ; 
Our  plea,   our   prayers    most   fervent,   all   in   vain ! 
Impelled,  from  horrors  which  this  heart  had  stung, 
To    our   liege  mother   and   to   thee    I    clung, 
In   bonds   a   comrade   held,   a    volunteer 
In   all   the    dangers    dread    of  such    career. 
I've   more   to   fear   than    tliou,   who,   found   alone, 
Wert   forced   at   Worcester   from   parental   home 
By   brutal   foes.      Grim   cruelties   they   sought, 
But   on   themselves   relentless   vengeance   brought, 
In    which   an   agent  I  indeed   was   one 
To   bear  a   part  in  wrong,  if  wrong  were   done  — 

360 


BENEATH    A    BOCK. 

If  in   the   shed   of  blood   a  crime   it  be, 
To   break   from    hell-born   bondage   to   be   free, 
Then   is   the   fault   in   me   much   more   than   thee, 
Who   had   no    choice   of   lot   nor   chance   to   flee. 
Yet  have    I   faith   from   inward   teachings   given, 
Life's   freedom   gained   is  justified    of  Heaven ; 
Whose    care    paternal   henceforth   let   us   trust, 
As   did   our   lathers,    faithful   from   the    first." 

Thus  did  they  talk  of  self,  of  wrong  and  right, 
Meandering   along   till    late    at   night 
Through  narrow  pathways,  hindered  now  and  then 
By    tangled   thicket   dark,   by    brook   and   fen. 
Then   next  by  range  of  hills,  where  lies  at  length 
A  deep  ravine,  and  there,  through  lack  of  strength, 
They    turn   aside   beneath   a   shelving   rock 
O'ergrowii   of  spreading  pines;    thither   to  stop, 

Inclined   to   rest;    but   fain   would   wakeful   keep, 

361 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

Yet,  lost  anon  by  force  of  needful   sleep, 
Remain   still  there,   till   morn's   refulgent   ray 
Reflected   on   the   wave  of  NASHUA,20 
Cast  varied   shadows   in  the   branchy    wood 
Around   the   group. 

There    "mother   Duston"  stood 
Invoking   favors   from   the   throne    of  God 
To   be   bestowed   in   coming   time   for   good 
For   MARY  NEFF,   for   SAMUEL   the   same, 
Her  pilgrim   comrades,   whence   deliverance   came— 

And   briefly   now,   as   ended   then   her   prayer, 
Addressed   them   each   in   turn   still   waiting   there 
In   kindness   thus :     "  Mary,   to   thee   I   owe 
Much   more   of  debt  than   I   can   e'er  bestow 
Of  earth's   reward.     Thy   truthfulness   of  heart, 
Thy    generous   constancy,   thy    guileless   art, 

In   trial   proved,   this    thankful   soul    reveres ; 

362 


MRS.    F.USTON    10   SAMUEL. 

May   blessings,   Mary,  crown   thy   future   years; 
My   home   is   thine,   if  home   1   see  again, 
Devoutly   favored   thou    shalt  there   remain. 

"  And  you,   dear   Samuel,  valiant  in   the   past, 
Honest   in   purpose,   faithful   to   the   last, 
No   more   should   doubt.     To   savages   belong 
The   retribution   of  relentless   wrong, 
And   not   to   thee.     Are   not   His   dealings  just 
Who   Israel   led?     Shall   we    our  God   distrust? 
No.  —  Brood   no   more  of  doubts,  most  noble  boy  ! 
Go,   seek    thy    way   to   Worcester ;    bear  true  joy 
To   her   who   bore    thee,  and   whose   hallowed    care 
Shall   haste   thee   onward    to   her   presence   there, 
Still  undisguised,  in   truth  of  God  still  led, 
Wash   not  a   stain  from  out  thy  garments  red. 
Thy  deeds  but  known    shall  welcome  truth  impart ; 

They'll  prove  the  valor   of  a   valiant   heart. 

363 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

Take  yonder  skiff;   'twill  be  no   trespass   done. 
For  thee   it  drifted  from   a   fate   unknown. 
For  thee   my  voice  in  thanks   shall   hence  ascend  ; 
Away !    and   blessings  on   thy   life  attend." 

Still  loath  to  part,  yet  harboring  doubts  no  more, 
The   lad,  wide  wafted   on  the  westward   shore, 
His   beckoning   paddle  raised;    with  aprons,  too, 
The  women,  answering,  waved  their  last  adieu. 

Thence   turning,  —  tearful,   meditating  mild 
On  distant  "  dear  ones"  wandered  through  the  wild, 
And  Haverhill  reached :  —  to  whom,  from  governors 

even, 
Came    generous   gifts   and  thankful   plaudits   given. 

And    there    they   rest.      There    upward    points, 
to-day, 

364 


INDIAN   WARS. 

A   monument   of  stone   from   Duston's  clay. 
Her   noble   deeds  are   held   in   high   renown, 
Sacred  like  heirloom  in   that   ancient  town ; 
And   long  as   Merrimac's   bright   waters   glide 
Shall   stand   that  mother's  fame,  still  by  its  side. 

Such  were  the  bickerings  that  brought  the  woea 
Of  William's  time  ;   which  from  the  tribes  arose 
Through   sordid   hate,  that  rankled  in  the  place 
Of  gospel  truth,  unknown   to   such  a  race. 

Enough   of  war.      Yet    others  still   there   were 
Profuse  in  blood.     'Tis  man's  estate  to  err. 
Let  pass    Queen  Anne's?1   the   troubles  of  her  day, 
The    craft   of  Jesuits,   fruitful   of  dismay ; 
Nor  need  to   note  the  French  and  Indian"   strife, 
Nor   trace   the   torch,   the    tomahawk,   and  knife 

Further.     'Tis   now   the    olive-branch    divine, 

365 


THE  MERRIMAC. 

That   springs   from   culture's   agency   benign, 
With   better   deeds   the   record  to   embalm, 
Succeeds  the  war  of  Wolf  against  Montcalm. 

Now  industry   with  thrift  again  moves   on, 
Blest  in   the   fruits  of  earth   and  arts   anon, 
While  Science  fair  her  grateful  tribute  brings, 
And   Charity,  with   healing  in   her  wings, 
To  faith  and  works.     The  colonies  incline 
To   independence,  and   in   strength   combine ; 
The  tribes   remote   from   civil  life   retire, 
Still  wandering  wild  as  wont   through   frail   desire, 
Leave  free  the  field  to  prosper  many  a  year 
Unstained  of  war,  in  fruitful  bounties  fair. 

Then  self-control  begins  to  seek  solution, 
A  thirst   for  freedom   threatens  revolution. 

At  first  provoked  by  Britain's  indiscretion, 

366 


THE    REVOLUTION. 

Her   power   assumed,  her   flagrant   legislation, 
And  other  wrongs,  invasion  comes   at  length, 
Resistance  follows,  — then  a  tug  at  strength 
Full  seven  years."     On  hostile  fields,  engaged, 
The  armies  gathered,  and  the  battle  raged. 

John  Bull,  in  strength  of  scientific   drill, 
Inflamed  the  ardor  of  untutored  skill;  — 
The  Yankee's  fire-lock   belched  terrific  flame, 
Against  whose  vengeance  science  was  but  vain;-- 
And  scythe  and   pitchfork  wielded  for  the  right 
The  better  weapons  proved,  in  such  a  fight. 
True  valor  thus  from  pilgrim  hearts  of  yore, 
Drove  the  brave  Britons  from  Columbia's  shore. 

Then  through   the  vale,  the  Veteran  we  trace, 
Firm  in  deportment,  faithful  to  his  race, 
Down  from  the  fields  of  conquest  and  renown, 

367 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

Observed  of  all  the  host,  the  heroes  of  the  town ;  — 
BEN.  PiERCE24  is  there  far  seen  amid  the  throng, 
With  laurels  crowned,  they  wind  the  way  along ;  — 
And  there's  old  JOHN"  who,  when  the  field  was  dark, 
Would  risk  his  life  at  risk  of    "Molly  Stark." 
These  were  our  fathers,  manly   in  their  might 
From  whom  descended  liberty  and  right. 

Where  now  they  rest  shall  fragrant  flowers  grow; 
Their  valiant  deeds  shall  coming  ages  know ; 
And  filial  care  shall  cherish  evermore, 
That  noble  tree  they  planted  at  our  door. 

So  wasteful  revolution   passed  away 
Like  darkest  hour,  foreshadowing  brilliant  day. 

Now  smiling  spring  comes  in  from  winter's  blast 
To  swell  the  seed ;    and  now  the  bloom  is  past ; 

368 


THE    HARVEST. 

Productive  seasons  flit  their  hours  away, 

Each  warms  the   world   in  bounty  day  by  day, 

That  living  things  in  nature  may  survive, 

That  man  and  beast  that  come  and  go  may  thrive. 

From  varied   gifts  subsistence  we  devise, 

And   in   due    season   gather  in  supplies. 

The   husbandman   hath  care  for  weighty  sheaves, 

Yet  for  a  time   unthreshed   the   grain   he   leaves ; 

While  down  the    meadow,   mowers   all   the  way 

Swing  swath  on  swath  of  verdant  heavy  hay, — 

Tagged    there   by  Johnny,  tossing   it  in   air, 

To  make  the  crop  while  yet  the  field  is  fair ; 

The   rakers   next,  —  the  teamster  in  his  turn, 

With  rugged  cart   and    oxen,  comes   anon, 

Each  vies   in  strength,  in  manly    ardor   shown, 

To  glean  the  glen,  and  bear  the  harvest  home. 

But  when  dark  clouds  thick  gather  o'er  the  sky, 

They  quit  the  fumid  field  to  thresh  the  rye, 


THE   MERR1MAC. 

Dp  to  the   barn,   a   gnvndsire  built   of  old, 
Where  frightened  swallows  weary   wings  unfold 
Above.     There  face  to  face  within  the    door, 
In  squads   divided   on  the   spacious  floor ;  — 
The  heavy  sheaves  lay  head  to  head  between, 
The -swinging  flails  high  in  the  air  are  seen, 
Blow  follows  blow,  and  strength  to  strength  they  vie, 
The  bundles  bounding  rattle  out  the  rye. 

As  when  two  charioteers  by  Bacchus  strong 
Inflamed,  now  homeward  lash  their  steeds  along 
O'er  yender  bridge,  —  swift  whirl  the  wheels 

around 

By   dint   of  trial,  —  and    heavy  hoofs   rebound. 
So   from   the   floor   the   farmer's   noisy  flail 
Reverberates   aloud   along  the  vale, — 

Then  note,  when  evening  gathers  o'er  the  plain, 
370 


THE   HUfcKIKG. 

Now  laid  at  length  a  heavy  heap  of  grain; 
There  to  be  winnowed,  when   old    Boreas  blows, 
Then  high  the  chaff  in  cloudy  current  flows, 
And   from   the   lifted  measure   shaken   seen, 
The  grain   in   conic  pile  falls   pure   and   clean ; 
Then  stored  in   bin,  or  cask,  safe-held  at  will, 
Awaits   the   money-market   or  the  mill. 

Meanwhile  the  field  assumes  a  spiky  form ; 
The  time   hath   come   to   gather   in   the   corn ; 
On   hand   the   laborers,   on   hand   the    cart, 
The  lads  are  all  aglee  to  take  a  part ; 
For  now  they  know  when  eve  approaches  near, 
'Twill  bring  that  joyful   husking  of  the  year. 
All   now   one   purpose   faithfully   fulfil, 
The  rustling  ears  are  hurried  from  the   hill 
With  ardent  zeul ;  and  flushed  with   hopeful  joys 
Above  the  standing  stocks  both  men  and  boys 

371 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

High  on  their  shoulders  crowded  baskets  wield. 
The  heavy  harvest   carted  from   the  field, 
They  pile   in   heaps    within   the    grating   door 
Throughout  the  spacious  barn  and   kitchen  floor, 
At  eve. 

There  then  the  guests  all  seated  down, 
From  every  cottage  home  in  all  the  town ; 
Some  old,  some  young,  and  some  quite   lately  born, 
Vie  with  each  other  husking  out  the   corn; 
In  social  chat  and  merry  song  they  keep 
The  golden  ears   fast  flying  from  the  heap; 
While  startled  oft,  the  seated  crowd  appear, 
At  lucky  swains,  who   find   a   crimsoned   ear; 
For  in  such  luck,  'tis  never  deemed  amiss, 
To  "  go  the  round  "  and  give  the  maids  a  kiss. 
The  sprightly  boys,  with  bending  baskets  borne, 
Remove   the   husks,   and   bear  away  the   corn. 

372 


CHURCH   GOING. 

Then  comes  the  hour  that  gathers  large  supplies 
Of  apple-dowdies 26  and  of  pumpkin-pies, 
Then  bends  the  board  with  viands,  fruit,  and  wine;  — 
All  hail !   that  gleeful  hour,  the  olden  time. 
Then  when  the  week   hath  turned  its  toil  away 
How  mild  and  silent  is  the  Sabbath-day ! 

The  modest  maiden  churchward  as  she  goes, 
Proud  in  good  looks  and  go-to-meeting  clothes, 
Across   the   glen,  untouched    of  dust  or   dews, 
Bears  in  her  hand  her  nice  embroidered  shoes; 
Her  stockings,  too,  home  knit,  of  purest  white;— - 
Now  near  the  temple,  pulls  them  on  aright ; 
Then  in  the  precinct  of  that  holy  place, 
Where  loud  the   parson    grave  dispenses   grace, 
Shines  forth  a  beauty  flounced;   there  seated  down 
The   belle    of  all   the   beaux  in  Dracut  Town. 

373 


THE   MEERIMAC. 

Such  neat  conceptions  and  such  care   in  dress, 
Deliberate  judgments  do  not  count  the  less. 
Go  back  and  see  !     A  glance  shall  well  suffice ; 
Our   kind   old   mothers  were  the  best  of  wives  ;  — 
The}r  formed   our  habits,  shaped  our  very  lives; 
Their  precepts   prayerful,   pointed   to   the    skies, 
True  joys   most   dear   to    early   days  alone, 
Ungrudged  they  sought,  forgetful  of  their  own. 
Men  of  my  age  !     We   hail  that    highland   glee 
That  cheered  the  homes,  the  hearts  of  you  and  me 
Of  yore. 

Ye    matrcns,    too,   whose    childhood   prime 
Is   merged   in   memories   of  the  olden   time, 
Call   up   that   hour !    and   bear   me  witness,    too, 
Of  what  in  early  life  you  used  to  do,  — 
How    then    on   tip-toe    cotton  yarn   you    spun, 
How  buzzed  the   band   and   how   the   spindle    run, 

How  moved  the  thread  around  the  handy  reel, 

374 


WHEEL  OF  THE  OLDEN  TIME. 


MODERN    INVENTION. 

How   dear  old    mother  whirled  the  linen  wheel; 

While  at   her  knee  the  prattling  baby  stands 

Provoking   grandma  with   his   little   hands, 

To   feel    the  forked  distaff's  flaxy  curl, 

Or  ferret  out  the   curious  whiz  and  whirl 

Of  wheel   and  spool ;  —  heedless  of  frown  or  fliers 

Or  flax-comb   keen.     So   fondly  he  admires. 

TV    enchanting  scenes   of  childhood's  joyful   day 
We  cherish  still,  though  fled   like  flowers  of  May. 
In   truth,  jlike   the    habits    had  of  yore, 
That  linen  wheel  and  loom  are   known  no  more. 

Anon   advance    the    riper  years  of  art, 
In  which   inventions  take  decisive  part, 
Whence  generous  genius  prosecutes  the  plan 
To  overcome  the    drudgery  of  man  ; 
Makes  lifeless  things,  impelled  at  his  control, 

375 


THE   ilEERIMAC. 

To   do   the    duty    of  a  living   soul. 

Hence    cotton-gins   and   spinning-jennies  fine 

Outrun  the  wooden  wheels  of  olden  time. 

Hence  power  of  steam,  applied  on  sea  and  land, 

Expelling  labor  with  a  heavy  hand, 

Work  startling  wonders,  through  mechanic  skill, 

To   move   the   car,  the   steamboat,  or   the   mill. 

By    industry   that   artful   LOWELL"   led, 
By  faith  far-seeing  which  a  JACKSON28  had, 
The  noisy  flood,   that  o'er  the  breaker  swells, 
Is  turned  aside  to  follow  huge  canals. 
Structures  gigantic  rise  in  prospect  fair ; 
Cities  that  spread  in  beauty,  here  and  there 
Adorn  the  valley.     Manufactories  filled 
With   prompt  machinery,  as  art  had  willed 
Her  work,  in  stately  ranks  now  line  the   shore 
Of  Merrimac. 

376 


MANUFACTURING. 

NDW   changed   that   torrent   roar ! 
Her  fountains  turned  flow  down  in  tranquil  stream, 
And  rolling  round  the  graded  hills,  between, 
Through   deep-laid  channels,  never  washed  before, 
Propel  the  ponderous  whed  with  mighty  power ;  — 

The  wheels  "  within  the  wheel,'1  with  one  consent, 
Fly  round  and  round,  each  on  its  duty  sent ; 
Ten  thousand  spindles  in  their  places  spin, 
Ten  thousand  spools  fast  wind  their  fibres  in, 
Ten  thousand  shuttles  shoot  across  the  web 
Fed    by  the  mules29  slow  back  and  forward  led ;  — 
Fast   roll   the   fabrics  from  the  rolling  beam, 
Complete  in  beauty,  true  in  thread  or  seam; 
The  sheeting  white,  the  listed  broadcloths  fine, 
Neat   satinet,   and   carpets   superfine ; 
The  gaudy   prints  and   blankets  plainer  made, 
For  realms  remote,  for  home  or  foreign  trade. 

377 


THE   MEREIMAC. 

Workshops  with  throngs  the  villes  environ, 
Magic  in  power  o'er  wood,  o'er  steel  and   iron ; 
Alive  in  thought,  and  helping  one  another, 
Onward   in   handy  art  advancing  further, 
Embracing  all  the  works  that  man  can  do, 
Through  labor  fruitful   and  inventions  new. 

The  iron  horse  comes  next  to  greet  the  day, 
A   gift  of  Stephenson.     Now  on  the  way, 
With  charioteer  half  hid   upon  his  back, 
Along  where  Mernmac  had  led  the  track 
Bears  high  his  head.     Held  harnessed  to  a  train, 
Fraught  full  of  life,  his  energies  aflame 
Loud  whistling  wild,  and  fierce  impelled  amain, 
He  skirts  the  hills  and  snorts  along  the  plain ;  — 

When  in  the  shades  of  night  you  chance  to  hear 

The   screaming   whistle  of  that  charioteer 

378 


THE    TiLEGRAPH. 

Afar; —  then  note  the  belching  smoke  and  fire; 
The  train,  impelled  as  if  by  Pluto's  ire, 
Darts  like   a   dragon,  whizzing,  winding   past, 
As  if  from  gates  of  hell   let  loose  at  last ;  — 
Yet   takes   a  charge  to  distant   realms   afar, 
And  brings  a   kind    return  in  peace  or  war, 
Shortens   forever   the   tedious   length  of  space, 
Burdens  to  bear  for  every  clime  and   race. 

Not  less  the  Telegraph,  contrived  of  Morse, 
Makes  labor  less.     Thrown  out  upon  its  course 
Full  fraught  with  messages   diffuses  light, 
Nor  time  nor  space  is  measured  in  its  flight, — 
From  State  to  State  in  every   region   hurled, 
Skirting  the  ocean-bed  from  world   to  world 
To   bear  the  news;  —  to  tender  useful  aid 
To  all   the  traffic  of  a  foreign  trade  ;  — 

To  catch  the  culprit  in  his  wayward  flight, 

379 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

And   turn  him  back  to  common  law  and  right. 
'Tis  thus  that  "letters  to  the  lightnings"  given, 
Flashed   o'er  the  earth,  reflect  the   light  of  heaven, 
Make  common  cause  for  good,  with  all  mankind. 
So  man  progresses  in  the  march  of  mind. 

Not   less   the   fields   in   cultivation   fine, 
Through   deep   discovery  in   progressive  time, 
Advance.     The  patent  plough,  the  scythe  for  mowing 
And  all  things  else  of  art,  that  seem  worth  knowing 
Invented   now    o'erconie   the   farmer's   toil, 
And  make  him  monarch  of  this  ancient  soil. 

Old  PENNAKOOK  puts  on  a  modern  name ; 
WAMESIT  wild   still   onward  does  the   same ; 
While  AMOSKEAG,  no  more  the  red  man's   pride, 
Makes   MANCHESTER  a  city  by  her  side. 

380 


PROGRESSION. 

Southward  and  seaward,  ancient  NEWBURYPORT, 
Of  ships  productive,  strong  in  force  and  fort, 
With   even  hand   fulfils   a   noble   part 
In  foreign  commerce  and  the  works  of  art. 

Lowell   is   queen  ;  —  her  history  recalls 
The   might  and  memories  of  Pawtucket  Falls. 
Where  Wonalancet  dwelt  in  wigwam  fair, 
Now  dwells,  in  pride  of  mansion,   DR.  AYER, 
Whose  nostrums  pure  and  scientific  skill, 
To  cure  the  nations  from  a  tide  of  ill, 
In  doses  daily  measured  by  the  tons, 
And  cords  of  calendars  in  numerous  tongues, 
Go  forth. 

Here   progress  made   in   modern   time, 
Where  science,  art,  and  enterprise  combine, 
Tends  but  to  tell   how  moves   the  world  apace 

At  will  and  wisdom  of  the  Saxon  race. 

381 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

LAWRENCE  and  NASHUA,  the  later   growth 
Of  cities  chartered,   proud  in  art  and  worth, 
Still   thrive.     Wide  interspersed  are   town  and  vill 
At   work   in   agriculture,  shop,  and  mill ; 
HOOKSETT  and  SUNCOOK,  once  an  Indian  home, 
With  ancient  Salisbury,  drive  the  busy  loom. 

Pembroke  and   Bradford  !     Institutions  there 
Inspire  the   young  in  light  of  learning  fair. 
Here,  too,  old  Andover,  in  science  grand, 
Gives  gospel  truth,  glad-tidings  to  the  land, 
And   Tyngsboro',  Chelmsford !    wander  where  you 

will, 
The  church  and  school  are  found,  triumphant  still. 

Northward  is   Franklin,  where  wild  waters   meet 
From  mountain  height  and  limpid  lake  to   greet 

Our  Merrimac;  —  the  rustic  region  where 

382 


WEBSTER    AND    PAESONS. 

Tlie  noble  WEBSTER30   lived, — first  breathed  the  air; 
Schooled  here  in  youth,  in  manhood  he  became 
A    nation's   boast,   a   statesman  known  to  fame ; 
A   fame  still    chanted  from  the  mountain  rills, 
Soft  whispered  wild  in  these  his  native  hills. 
That  name  renowned  shall  live  forever  to  be 
Revered  with  WHITEFIELD,  slumbering  near  the  sea. 

Alike   shall   Pilgrims  inspiration  draw 
At  thought  of  PARSONS,31  "  Giant  of  the  law ; " 
Whose  life  and  learning  found  in  book  or  plea, 
Learned    by  the  learned  extend   beyond  the  sea;  — 
His  native  NEWBURY  strives  in  vain,  alone, 
Against   the  world   to   hold  him   as   her   own. 

Here's  AMESBURY,  too,  far  seen  in  learned  lights, 
?Tis  here  a  Whittier  sings  for  human  rights, 

Whose  prayerful  cadence,  high  is  heard  in  heaven 

383 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

Till   God's   full   answer  back   to   earth  is  given 
In  favor    kind ;  —  and  yet  through  judgments  just, 
We're  taught  in  wisdom,  and  in  whom  to  trust. 

Thus   true   it   is,   yet   dread   in   deep   disgrace — 
An   oligarchy   of  a   southern   race, 
Born  there  of  hell,  and   bred  in  slavery's  school, 
"Let   loose  their  dogs  of  war"  and  sought  to  rule, 
And  Sumpter  falls.     "  To  arms  ! "  the  patriot  cries ; — 
To   arms  provoked,  the   northern   legions   rise;  — 
Nor  age,   nor   caste,   nor   different   race,   decline ; 
Alike   in   zeal,   alike   in  faith   combine 
In  manly  strength.      From  all  the  vales   and   hills, 
Out   from  mechanic   shops,   from  noisy   mills; 
Physicians   even,   divines,  and   legal   bar 
Turn  heroes  brave  and  rally  for  the  war;  — 


As   when   a   bull   disturbs  a  native   hive, 
384 


THE    FEBF.LLTON. 

The  bees  ten  thousand  buzz  and  outward  drive, 

Black  in  the  air  the  vast  battalions  bring 

Their   horrid   weapons   down,  fierce   on  the  wing, 

Upon  the   herd.     So   bent  on  war,   alive 

Legions   of  Yankees   from  the  northern   hive 

Leap  forth  aflame,  in  native  strength  and   power, 

Wielding  dread  engines  yet  unknown  to  war;  — 

Countless   in   cost,  the   preparation   grand, 

For  deadly  conflicts  on  the  sea  or  land; 

The  monitor,  in  iron  mail  afloat ;  — 

The  monstrous  mortar  with    a   yawning   throat; — 

Vast  shells  and  shot  within,  of  strange  invention ;  — • 

Six  hundred  pounders,   slugs  of  huge  dimension, 

The  new   capt-rifle   keen,  the   seven-shooter, 

Ten   thousand  tons   of  iron,   lead,   or   pewter.. 

Armed  thus   the   cohorts   tramp  the   trembling 

plain, 

385 


THE   MERRIMAC. 

And  crowd  the  mighty  ships  that  plough  the  main, 
The  conscious   thunders,   muttering   from   afar, 
Bemoan   the   horrors  of  impending   war. 
Not  less  the   bolt,  oft  breaking   from   the   sky, 
Bespeaks  dread  vengeance,  threatened  from  on   high. 
IPour   years    of  darkness   curtains  all   the  plain, 
'Four  years  of  conflict   on   the   land  and   main, 
'Earth    deep   in    sorrow  for   the    thousands    slain, 
•Prove    but   the    fruit,    the    penalty,   and    pain 
Of  sin.     Yet   high    o'er   all   that   earth   betides, 
Th'  ^eternal   Jove   in   majesty   presides ; 
And  in   His   mercy,   sovereign  will,   and   power, 
Forgives    the    crime   and    turns   the    tide   of  war. 
Now   tumbling   from    her   bulwarks,   treason   falls ; 
Loud   ring  the    batteries,    crashing   in  her  walls, 
The    sweeping   navies   press   the    rebel  shore, 
From   field    to   field   the   belching    mortars  roar. 

Yet  doth  dread  carnage  cease  at  Heaven's  will ; 

386 


THE   VICTORY. 

The  curse32   is  but  removed,  and  all  is  still. 
Great  God  of  armies,  we  adore  thy  name 
For   thy  forgiveness   of  a  nation's  shame, 
Who,  through  the  sea    u  led   Israel   like   a  flock," 
Hath   led    this   modern  Israel   to   "the   rock 
Beyond   the  flood."  Oh,   let   us  learn  Thee  still; 
Who   bears   thy   image   must  obey   thy   will ! 
To  whom   but  man   should   noble  deeds   belong, 
To  learn  the  right  divine,  to  spurn  the  wrong? 
What  we   would   have  of  others,  do  to  them, 
Alike   the   work   of  nations   as   of  men. 

Of  God-like  man !  —  if  thus  he   e'er  appears, 
'Tis  when  his  truth  outlives  declining  years, 
Who  ventures  all  in  strength   of  youth  or  age, 
In   deeds   divine   his   energies   engage, 
Who   with  one   hand   sustains   a   falling  brother, 
Yet   grasps  his  country's  flag  firm  in  the   other; 

387 


THE    MERRIMAC. 

To  flaunt  its  folds  on  freedom's  towering  height, 
In   life's   last   hour   still   battles   for   the   right ; 
'Tis  such  whose  hand  hath  broken  the  galling  fetter, 
'Tis  he  whose  life  hath  left  the  world  the  better, 
To   him   shall   rise   a  fervid,  loud  acclaim; 
So  beats  a  nation's  heart  at  LINCOLN'S  name ; 
By  whose  true  teachings  treason  lost  its   sway ;  — 
Then  passed  the  good  man  from  the  world  away. 
Still  Johnson  lives,  —  a  GRANT  to  lead  the  van, 
A  Slierman   bold,  —  a   gallant   Sheridan. 
Hence   shall   the  nation  social   pride   maintain, 
In  sovereign  States  shall  sovereign  order  reign. 
Hail  glorious   day !     'Tis  wisdom's  plan  ordained, 
Above   the  storm   is   liberty   proclaimed ; 
The  sun  of  peace  resplendent  shines  again ; 
O'er  all  the  vale,  it  cheers  th'   abodes    of  men. 

Come   back,  TISQUANTDM  !   if  above   ye   dwell, 
388 


TISQUANTUM. 


TISQOANTUM'S  RETUBN. 

Behold  thy   Merrimac,  once  loved   so  well; 
Thy   race  had   traced  it  from   creation's  start; 
The  white  man  turns  it  to   the   works  of  art; 
Survey   its   progress  these  three  hundred  years, 
Since   up  and  down  ye   wandered   here   in  tears 
Alone,  bereaved. 

Call  once   again   to  view 
Thy  thick-set   forest  wild,  thy   birch   canoe, 
Where  now  thy  kindred  sleep  as  from  the   first, 
Where    Pilgrim    saints   since   mingled   in    the   dust, 
Where   now   the   ploughman   trudges   in   his   toil, 
Thoughtless   of  what  still   lies   beneath   the   soil ; 
Oh  !   let  us   know  from    what   thy   name    inspires,  — 
What   is   man's   destiny,   what   Heaven   requires 
More  fully   still.     From   realms   eternal,  fair, 
Tell   us   of  hunting-ground,   of  glory   there, 
Where   blissful   prospect  Heaven  shall   fulfill, 
To   generations  onward,  upward  still, — 

389 


THE  MERBDtAC. 

While  purest  fountains  flowing  failing  never 
Shall   swell   the   tide   of  Merrimac  forever, — 
Sure   sign   here    given    of  God's   enduring   care, 
For  what  we  see  in  heaven,  in  earth,  or  air. 

390 


NOTES 


1  THE  "MEKRIMAC"  takes  its  rise  in  the  White  Mountains;  is 
formed  by  the  junction  of  the  Pemigewaset  and  Winnipisseogee  Riv- 
ers; is  110  miles  long,  and  empties  into  the  ocean  near  Newbtiry- 
port.  It  has  been  said,  "  No  river  in  the  world  works  so  hard  »& 
the  Merrimac." 

*  SIR  FRANCIS  DRAKE  visited  New  England  in  1586. 

3  The  Pilgrims  landed  Dec.  22,  1620. 

4  The  Indian's  mode  of  greeting  was  by  a  kiss. 

6  The  Treaty  with  KINO  MASSASOIT  was  made  March  22,  1621. 
8  Smoking  was  called  drinking  by  the  natives. 

7  TisauANTfM,  alias  SQUAXTO,  died  in  Dec.,  1622. 

8  Cattle  were  first  brought  into  New  England  in  1624. 

9  MASSASOIT  died,  and  PHILIP  became  king  in  1670. 

10  SASSAMON  was  murdered  Jan.  29,  1674,  0.  S.    Two  of  the  mur- 
derers, Tobias  and  Mattashinnamy,  were  executed  June  8,  1674;  the 
ether,  Wampapaquam,  was  shot  in  jail.    The  indictment  against  them 
contained  the  following  count :  — 

"  For  that  briny  accused,  that  they  did  with  joynt  consent  rpon  the 
23  of  January  anno  1674  att  a  place  called  Assotcamset  pond  wilfully 

391 


NOTES. 

and  of  sett  purpose  znd  of  malice  fore  thought  and  by  force  and  armea 
murder  John  Sassamon  another  indian,  by  laying  violent  hands  on  him 
and  striking  him,  or  twisting  his  necke,  vtitil  hee  was  dead  ;  and  to 
hyde  and  conceale  this  theire  said  murder  att  the  tyme  and  place  afore- 
said did  cast  his  dead  body  through  a  hole  of  the  ice  into  the  said  pond." 

11  PHILIP  was  slain  August  12,  1676. 

12  WONALANCET,  a  son  of  Pussaconaway,  lived  at  Pawtucket  Falls, 
and  was  Chief  in  the  Merrimac  Valley  from  1660  to  1677. 

13  PENNAKOOK  is  now  Concord,   Y.  H. 

14  WAMESIT  is  Lowell,  and  was  called  the  Great  Neck. 

15  KING  WILLIAM'S  war  commenced  in  1690  and  ended  in  1698. 

16  COTTON  MATHER,  a  clergyman,  born  Feb.  12,  1662,  and  died  Feb. 
13,  1727,  aged  sixty-five. 

17  HANNAH  DUSTON  and  Mary  Ncff  were  taken  captives  at  Haver- 
hill,  Mass.,  March   15,   1697.    Assisted  by  Samuel  Leonardson,  they 
slew  their  captors  on  the  31^t  day  of  the  same  month      There  were 
eight  children  in  the  Duston  family.    When  Mrs.  D.  was  taken,  the 
infant  was  slain  against  a  tree.    The  other  children  escaped  by  flight, 
assisted  by  the  father. 

18  MAUY  NEFF,  the  maid  of  Mrs.  D.,  who,  when  the  Duston  house 
was  set  on  fire,  chose  captivity  rather  than  to  forsake  her  mistress 
and  the  infant. 

19  SAMUEL  LEONARDSON  was  a  boy  who  had  been  captured  by  the 
Indians  prior  to  their  attack  upon  the  Duston  house,  who,  with  Mary 
Neff,  assisted   Mrs.  D.  in  killing  the  Indians  on  the  island  in  the 

Contoocook. 

392 


NOTES. 

*  Nashua,  a  river  emptying  into  the  Merrimac  from  the  west  at 
Nashua,  N.  H. 

*'  QUEEN  ANNE'S  war  of  eleven  years  ended  March  31,  1713. 
w  The  French  and  Indian  war  of  seven  years  ended  May  18,  1763. 

23  The  Revolution  of  seven  years  ended  by  definitive  treaty  Sept. 
30,  1783. 

24  BENJ.  PIERCE,  a  native  of  Chelmsford,  Mass.,  was  a  captain  in 
the  Revolution,  and  was  two  years  governor  of  New  Hampshire,  and 
died  at  Hillsboro*  in  1839,  aged  eighty-one. 

85  JOHN  STARK,  a  major-general  in  the  Revolution,  was  a  native 
of  Londonderry,  N.  H.,  and  died  at  Manchester  May  8,  1822,  aged 
ninety-four.  He  rests  on  the  second  bank  of  the  Merrimac,  in  that 
city.  At  Bennington,  on  rallying  his  men  he  is  reported  to  have  said, 
"  We  will  gain  the  battle,  or  Molly  Stark  shall  be  a  widow  to-night." 

26  Apple-dowdy,  a  huge  pie,  which  was  common  in  the  rural  dis- 
tricts, and  known  by  that  name. 

27  FKANCIS  C.  LOWELL  was  a  native  of  Newburyport.    He  died  in 
1817,  aged  thirty-eight.     From  him  the  city  of  Lowell  took  its  name. 

*>  PATRICK  T.  JACKSON  was  a  native  of  Newburyport.  He  died 
Sept.  24,  1847,  aged  sixty-seven. 

29  Mule,  an  instrument  for  spinning  thread  for  the  web,  worked  by 
hand;  called  also  mule-Jenny. 

30  DANIEL  WEBSTER,  a  native  of  Salisbury,  now  Franklin,  N.  H., 
died  at  Marshfield,  Mass.,  Oct.  24,  1852,  aged  seventy. 

n  THEOPHILIIS  PARPONS,  a  native  of  the  Parish  of  Byfield  in  New- 


NOTES. 

bury,  Mass.,  was  Chief-Justice  of  Massachusetts  seven  years,  and  died 
at  Boston  Oct.  30,  1813,  aged  sixty-four. 

"**  The  Rebellion  commenced  April  12,  1861,  at  the  storming  of 
Fort  Sumpter,  and  ended  at  the  surrender  of  Lee,  April  9,  1865 

NOTE.  —  For  an  extended  view  of  what  is  related  in  the  context, 
the  reader  is  referred  to  the  following  interesting  works :  Drake's 
History  of  the  Indians,  Bouton's  History  of  Concord,  Potter's  His- 
tory of  Manchester,  Fox's  History  of  Dunstable,  Cowley's  History 
of  Lowell,  and  Smith's  History  of  Newbnryport. 


394 


MY  MORNING  RAY. 


["  Now  it  is  high  time  to  awake  out  of  sleep."  —  PAUL.] 


BEAUTEOUS  beam  from  heaven  brightly 
Gliding  earthly  once  again ; 

Dancing  o'er  the  tree-top  lightly, 
Thence  upon  my  mirror-pane,  — 

There  to  paint  the  wild  bird  warbling 
Near  a  tiny  treasured  nest ; 

Or  the  roof-dove  cooing,  hobbling, 
Proud  in  thee  triumphant  blessed ! 

Thou  art  constant  ever  in  season, 

Benefits  benign  to  give  ; 
Elemental  strength  and  reason 

Countless  myriads  share  and  live. 
395 


MY   MORNING   RAT. 

Absent  last  night  far  off  gleaming 
Glorious!}-  in  the  heavens  high ; 

Back  to  the  spellbound  nations  dreaming, 
"Waking,  glad  to  greet  thee  nigh. 

Fed  of  fountains  deep,  unfailing, 
Godlike  giving  glorious  ever ; 

Tripping  onward,  never  trailing, 
Health  and  hope  are  thine  forever. 

Rill  and  river  fervent  flowing, 
Made  of  vapory  founts  above, 

Moved  of  thee  for  aye  bestowing 
Life's  abounding  beauty,  love. 

Airy  dreary  heights  eternal, 

Freed  from  winter's  gloomy  chain, 

Prompt  bespeak  thy  presence  vernal, 
Pouring  down  their  rills  again. 

Blest  of  thee,  the  dewdrop's  blazings, 

Curious  oft  in  bud  or  blade, 
Calling  the  bird  to  early  praisings, 

Tinting  the  highlands,  glen,  and  glade. 
396 


ITS    MISSION. 

Who  can  count  the  leagues  you've  travelled 
Since  creation  deigned  to  dawn, 

Or  the  mysteries  thus  unravelled, 
Or  the  paintings  ye  have  drawn? 

"Who  can  measure  the  moons  ye've  lighted, 

Planets  burning  in  thy  sight, 
Or  the  hearts  you've  oft  delighted 

Roused  from  realms  of  dreary  night? 

Who  can  know  the  worlds  uncounted, 
Whence  ye  came  and  whence  ye  went ; 

Spheres  swift  whirling  high  surmounted, 
How  much  love  to  each  you've  lent? 

Strange  for  aye  to  mental  vision, 

Man  benighted  to  prefer ; 
Hail,  all  hail,  transcendent  mission, 

God's  momentous  messenger! 
397 


GOD  OVER  ALL. 


THE  north  winds  murmured  many  a  dreary  night; 

Hard  heaving  frost  befetters  all  the  plain ; 
The  woodland  bud  bespeaks  a  baleful  blight, 

And  winter  cold  in  storm  hath  come  again. 


2. 

Trembling  the  beasts  are  tethered  to  the  stall, 
No  more  the  swallow  haunts  her  wonted  home, 

The  loon,  the  robin,  the  little  wren,  and  all, 
Have  quit  the  realm  for  regions  far,  unknown. 
398 


PROGRESSIVE. 
3. 

Bright  days  sweet  spring  and  summer  brought  to  view 
Mild  autumn  came,  yet  fadingly  departs : 

Our  God  is  theirs  the  advancing  seasons  through, 
In  nuptial  faith  to  link  their  little  hearts. 

4. 

Oh,  what  a  world  for  mortals  he  hath  made !  — 
A  world  supplied  with  every  need  for  each : 

O'er  all  his  work  his  lavished  love  is  laid ; 

And  the  orbs  on  high  are  truthful,  taught  to  teach. 

5. 

Silent  they  sweep  their  winding  courses  round, 
Each  world  to  turn  obedient  at  command, 

And  men  and  creatures  everywhere  are  found 
For  aye  to  work  and  wonder  at  his  hand. 

6. 

Sweet  life,  the  product  of  creation  given, 
In  germ,  in  growth,  in  ga}-ety,  to  move, 

Like  as  the  planets  in  the  vaulted  heaven, 
Takes  due  direction  from  that  lord  of  love. 


GOD    OVER    ALL. 

7. 
Here  Constancy  in  graceful  garb  is  taught, 

Here  T>uty  daily  finds  her  wonted  task, 
Here  Beauty  to  her  glowing  tints  is  brought, 

Here  Health  discards  the  sluggard's  morbid  mask ; 

8. 
Here's  Faith  unswerved  of  sovereign  favor  fed, 

Fond  Hope  of  heaven  doth  gather  sweet  supplies, 
Here  Charity  to  a  life  of  love  is  led, 

And  Truth  inspired  is  tutored  for  the  skies. 

9. 
In  every  cloud  that  clusters  in  the  air, 

In  every  bird  that  flits  the  forest  round, 
In  every  bush  that  blooms  in  beauty  fair, 

Down  from  on  high,  are  fruitful  lessons  found. 

10. 
Help  us,  great  God,  thy  mighty  works  to  view, 

Thy  boundless  power,  thy  guardian  grace  to  scan ! 
In  visions  brighter  every  day  renew 

Man's  love  to  thee,  man's  fealty  to  man. 
400 


DANIEL  AND  HIS   DOG. 


[At  Northwood,  N.H.,  given  at  its  Centennial  Sept.  6, 1873.] 


1. 

NEXT  now  I've  come  to  tell  a  story, 
From  trial  clays  of  Whig  and  Tory, 
Whose  deeds  of  valor,  death,  and  glory 

Tradition  truthful  gathers ; 
Far  out  from  hunting  duck  and  plover, 
In  spite  of  friendship,  faith,  or  lover, 
The  brave  old  ancestors  came  over 

To  kill  our  fervent  fathers. 

2. 

Among  the  victims  of  that  battle 
That  tried  the  metal  of  men  and  cattle, 
That  made  the  bones  of  traitors  rattle, 
And  millions  far  to  fear  it ; 
401 


DANIEL    AND    HIS    DOG. 

A  Yankee,  dauntless  Daniel  B., 
Had  fought  to  make  his  country  free, 
At  Bunker's  Hill  had  lost  one  knee, 
However  sad  to  hear  it. 

3. 

In  time  he  wore  a  wooden  leg, 
As  many  were  wont :  'twas  like  a  peg ; 
Yet  never  a  thought  to  fawn  or  beg 

Had  moved  the  heart  of  Daniel. 
IB  youth  he'd  married  Molly  B.  ; 
In  the  bonds  of  love  forever  free, 
A  happier  pair  you'll  never  see : 

He  kept  a  favorite  spaniel.. 

4. 

'Tvvas  prompt  industry  Daniel  sought, 
'Twas  love  and  music  Molly  brought ; 
Full  competence  they  always  wrought, 

Though  the  da}"8  were  hard  and  hazy ; 
At  length  disease  unfettered  came, 
When  doctors'  nostrums  proved  in  vain, 
Inflicting  morbid  mental  pain: 

It  made  old  Daniel  crazy. 
402 


THEY   WANDER. 
5. 

Strange  then  he  wandered  to  and  fro, 

Uncertain  where  to  stay  or  go, 

Yet  harmless  trudged  with  murmurings  low, 

Returning  oft  to  his  Molly ; 
Still  followed  that  faithful  spaniel  with  him, 
Along  the  highway  loitering  living : 
Transcendent  love  a  dog  could  give  him, 

And  yet  how  melancholy ! 

6. 

We  children  thought  it  curious  cunning, 
To  see  that  strange  old  soldier  coming ; 
Wild  on  dread  war  his  mind  was  running, 

While  all  the  way  he  muttered ; 
True  then  the  maniac  made  us  grin, 
However  great  the  fault  or  sin, 
The  breeches  and  that  beaver  brim 

Our  fearful  spirits  fluttered. 
403 


DANIEL    AND    HIS    DOG. 


AT   CHURCH. 


One  sabbath  morn  we  sat  us  down, 
'Twas  in  the  schoolhouse  of  the  town : 
To  heed  the  pra}-ers  of  Deacon  Drown, 

Devout  the  saints  had  met. 
At  length  old  Daniel  hobbled  in ; 
His  dog  assailed  began  to  grin 
With  snap  and  snarl  and  grip  to  win 

Our  deacon's  dog  beset. 


"Bite  him,  ye  hero,"  Daniel  said; 
"Bite  him,  I  say  it, — bite  'em  dead:" 
Loud,  loud  they  yelled :  heels  over  head 

They  whirled  ;  none,  none  could  part  'em. 
Up  from  his  prayer  the  deacon  tried 
To  drive  the  dogs,  his  cane  applied ; 
"ril—Tllrisk   Watch!"    old  Daniel  cried ; 

But  never  a  blow  could  start  'em. 
404 


THE    MORAL. 

9. 

'Tis  a  moral  good  for  me  or  you, 
111  manners  found  creation  through 
Will  never  for  dogs  or  deacons  do, 

Prone  oft  alike  rapacious ; 
Yet  find  you  will  in  all  your  lives, 
Where  love  from  love  its  love  derives, 
As  ever  it  ought  with  men  and  wives, 

Frail  man  is  made  sagacious. 

10. 

That  hero  then  they  led  away, 
No  more  to  break  that  sabbath  day, 
Still  madly  muttering  all  the  way, 

"  Bite  Mm!  I  say  #,  — bite  him!" 
What  though  such  ire  no  saint  could  trammel? 
That  dog  was  no  ill-natured  spaniel : 
Forever  true  to  follow  Daniel, 

He  capered  to  delight  him. 

11. 

Down  through  those  years  that  held  the  twain, 
Old  age  advancing  hateful  came, 

405 


DANIEL    AND    HIS   DOG. 

When  lingering  less  in  life  became 

The  quirk,  the  prank,  and  dashes; 
Then,  when  old  Daniel  sought  the  clay 
Made  free  by  the  braves  on  the  battle-day, 
His  grave  that  spaniel  kept  for  aye ; 
Dead,  there  he  fell  to  ashes. 
406 


JERUSALEM. 


i. 

ANCIENT,   sacred,  far-off  city, 

Clad  in  heaven's  lurid  light, 
Bygone  years  of  love  and  pity 

Live  to  linger  in  thy  sight. 

2. 
Faith  from  thee  springs  forth  victorious, 

Love  and  holiness  divine : 
Peace,  sweet  peace,  forever  glorious, 

Generations  call  it  thine  ! 

a 

Thou  hast  made  historic  pages 
Tragic,  tranquil  to  the  soul ; 
And  ye've  taught  the  eternal  ages 
Inspiration  as  the}*  roll. 
407 


JERUSALEM. 
4 

Many  a  day  through  trial  turning, 
Many  a  night  in  dreamy  trance, 

Up  thy  narrow  pathways  j-earning, 
True,  yet  tardy  to  advance ! 

5. 

Firm,  eternal,  statety  towers, 
Wall  and  temple  far  and  nigh ! 

Strong  in  spite  of  earthly  powers, 
Gleaming  glorious  'neath  the  sky! 

6. 

Long  we've  loved  thy  sacred  story, 

Proud  to  stand  where  tribes  have  trod ; 

Glad  to  greet  thee  in  thy  glory, 
Ancient  dwelling-place  of  God! 
408 


THE    YEARS    OF    POCOMTUCK. 


[Given  at  the  Centennial  Celebration  at  Leverett,  Mass.,  near  the  Pocom- 
tuck  Valley,  Sept.  10, 1874.] 


1. 

DEAR  Leverett,  rural,  linked  in  love 
To  vale  and  hill-top,  glade  and  grove, 
Your  hearts  below  and  hearts  above 

We've  come  to  greet. 
We  bring  with  mingled  joy  and  tears 
The  faith  of  fervent  tragic  years,  — 
To  thee  in  love  true  volunteers, 

Communion  sweet. 

Deep  moved  we're  minded  now,  you  know, 
Of  a  long  one  hundred  years  ago. 
409 


"THE  TEARS  OF  POCOMTUCK." 

2. 

To-day  POCOMTUCK  skirts  the  plain, 
Far  greener  grow  y'r  fields  again, 
And  mightier  waters  move  amain 

From  lake  and  brook ; 
Old  Toby  lifts  his  lofty  brow, 
Bespeaking  many  a  nobler  vow, 
And  beast  and  bird  are  happier  now 

In  love  and  look  ; 

For  true  they  seem  to  see  and  know 
That  long  one  hundred  years  ago. 

3. 

The  wild-bird  warbled  on  the  hill, 
The  wren  and  robin  near  the  mill, 
Far  down  the  vale  sweet  whippoorwill 

With  a  fervent  lay ; 
In  loftier  strain  of  note  and  song, 
They've  told  the  story  all  along 
Of  the  coming  great  centennial  throng, 

Vast  here  to-day ! 

For  they  had  care  as  we,  you  know, 
More  than  one  hundred  j^ears  ago. 
413 


TIDE    OF   TIME. 
4. 

At  the  garden-gate,  sweet  songster,  mothers, 
Inspiring  meek  "  MEMORIAL  "  BROTHERS, 
Mild  matrons  too,  and  all  the  others, 

Oft  many  a  day, 

Suggesting  how  the  years  had  run, 
How  generations,  sire  and  son, 
And  daughters  dear,  since  the  world  begun, 

Had  gone  away,  — 
Deigned  then  to  say  a  word  or  so 
Of  the  long  one  hundred  years  ago. 

ADVENTURERS. 
5. 

Now  first  of  all  the  red  man  trace ; 
And  then  a  pious  Pilgrim  race, 
Proud  Puritans  who  grew  in  grace, 

'Mid  conflicts  fell ; 

Next  valiant  how  old  Captain  Slarrow, 
In  spite  of  Indian  bow  and  arrow, 
With  Saxon  backbone  full  of  marrow, 

Dared  here  to  dwell ; 
411 


"THE  YEARS  OF  POCOMTUCK." 

Far  back  he  lived ;  came  first,  you  know, 
Beyond  one  hundred  years  ago. 

6. 

Then  Williams,  Wright,  and  Sawyer  came, 
Grave  clergymen  of  noble  fame, 
Colburn  and  Reynolds,  true  the  same, 

In  turn  were  here  ; 

Gone  now  the  shepherd,  gone  the  flock, 
Descendants  proud  of  the  Pilgrim  Rockl 
God  save  to  us  that  ancient  stock, 

Entire  and  clear ! 

Long  did  they  live  to  see  and  know 
That  hard  one  hundred  years  ago. 

THE    CABIN. 

7. 

Your  first  old  cot,  as  good  as  new, 
From  Slarrow  fell  to  Montague ; 
Who  made,  tormented,  much  ado 
At  law  and  levy : 
412 


FIRST    SETTLER, 

By  precept  prompt  you  know  the  facts, 
The  major's  pig  had  paid  the  tax ;  * 
Yet  retribution's  battle-axe 

Fell  hard  and  heavy 

On  Church  and  State  ;  blow  followed  blow, 
In  that  one  hundred  }-ears  ago. 

8. 

Sad  now,  that  cot  of  wood  and  clay, 
Time-worn,  hath  crumbled  to  decay, 
As  all  .things  earthly  on  the  way, 

Doomed,  disappear ! 
We  ponder  o'er  its  ancient  site 
By  sun,  or  moon  or  stars  at  night, 
And  bygone  years  bring  back  to  light 

Fond  memories  dear! 
For  there  was  weal  as  well  as  woe, 
More  than  one  hundred  years  ago. 

WAR. 

!). 

Turn  now,  we  will,  to  earlier  years, 
Beyond  the  day  of  pioneers, 

*  Slarrow's  pig  had  been  taken  to  pay  a  tax  to  the  minister. 
413 


"THE  YEARS  OF  POCOMTUCK." 

To  scan  Pocomtuck  'neath  the  spheres, 

A  mazy  wild ! 

Dark  then  the  branchy  giant  growth, 
Native  in  all  its  weal  and  worth, 
With  bud  and  wild-flower,  breaking  forth 

In  beauty  mild. 

10. 

Dread,  next  it  rang  with  wails  of  war; 

Old  Ocean  bellowed  from  afar, 

And  night  with  a  dim,  beclouded  star 

Hung  o'er  the  world, 
Obtruding  dearth  and  death  presaged ; 
While  flagrant  foe  on  foe  engaged ; 
Through  fire  and  blood  the  battle  raged, 

Banners  unfurled ! 

11. 

Along  that  rapturous  range  of  hills, 
Far  up  amid  the  mountain  rills, 
And  down  the  vale,  pale  terror  fills 
The  souls  of  men. 
414 


INDIAN    ONSETS. 

At  night,  the  flaring  fagot  blazed ; 
At  morn  the  crimsoned  cry  was  raised ; 
Fond  mothers  hugged  their  babes  amazed, 
Distracted  then ! 

12. 

True  so  it  was  from  Philip's  time, 

From  old  Mount  Hope  through  the  Nipmuck  *  line, 

Dread  consternation,  sad,  sublime 

An  hundred  years ! 

God  give  us  love,  true  faith,  and  grace, 
To  right  the  wrongs  of  a  Saxon  race, 
Which  the  far-off  tribes,  dismembered,  trace 

To  us  in  tears ! 

13. 

But  culture  since  hath  gladdened  the  soil, 
True  faith  and  works  have  no  recoil ; 
Kind  Heaven  hath  crowned  a  nation's  toil 

With  a  rich  increase. 
Huge  wrongs  have  wrought  a  revolution, 
Rebellion  dire,  and  retribution  ; 

*  The  Nipmuck  country  included  all  the  territory  between  the  Merrimack 
and  Connecticut  Rivers  to  the  White  Mountains. 

415 


"THE  YEARS  OF  POCOMTUCK." 

Yet,  thanks  to  God  for  absolution, 
We  thrive  in  peace. 

OUR   MANNERS. 
14. 

But  there's  a  change  the  present  day: 
The  "better  halves"  must  have  their  way; 
And  we  frail  fathers  ought  to  obey 

Their  brave  behest: 
Prompt  now,  ye  husbandmen  of  earth, 
Turn  wide  aside,  and  give  'em  berth ; 
For  all  the  world  is  of  little  worth 

If  they're  oppressed. 

15. 

Yet  woe  the  day  to  woman,  when 
Her  love  is  lost  to  the  souls  of  men, 
And  mine  and  thine  are  common  then 

To  a  mad  communion ! 
Then  shall  the  man  to  brute  be  changed : 
The  loveliest  links  shall  be  estranged ; 
The  social  system  all  deranged 

To  a  dire  disunion. 
416 


I 


MATERNAL    LOVE. 
Ifi. 

But  now  we  hail,  we  love  her  heart, 
In  durance  brave,  her  guileless  art ; 
Her  truth  divine  shall  ne'er  depart 

To  the  latest  breath ; 
Still  shall  her  love  glow  brighter,  best, 
When  most  by  dearth  or  danger  pressed ; 
Her  tranquil  care  shall  make  it  blest, 

Our  bed  of  death. 

17. 

Sweet  social  life,  through  all  its  care, 
Leaders  there  must  be  everywhere, 
O'er  all  the  way  to  avoid  the  snare, 

Onward  to  duty ! 

'Twas  so  of  yore,  in  winter's  storm, 
Or  in  life's  spring  da}',  night  or  morn, 
The  souls  of  mothers  always  warm, 

Lovely  in  beauty ! 

ANGELIC   VOICES. 

18. 

I  hear  their  whisperings  long  and  loud ; 
I  scan  them  in  the  purpled  cloud, 
417      - 


"THE  YEARS  OF  POCOMTUCK." 

In  garb  of  angels,  pure  and  proud, 

Far  looking  down : 
I  hail  that  vast  colonial  throng, 
That  cheered  this  valley  all  along, 
And  then  went  up  through  love  and  song 

From  Leverett  town. 

19. 

They're  there  to-day,  our  pioneers, 
Amidst  the  whirling,  beauteous  spheres : 
The}7  love,  us  well :   the}7  have  no  tears, 

They  beckon  above ! 

Hail,  hail  that  heavenward  glorious  day, 
'That  next  one  hundred  years  away ! 
Then  blest  of  God,  when  we  as  they 

Shall  live  and  love! 
418 


DEDICATION. 


[Inscribed  to  the  Eliot  Church  at  the  dedication  of  its  house  of  worship,  which 
stands  on  the  same  spot  in  Wamesit  (Lowell),  where  Eliot,  the  apostle, 
preached  to  the  Indians. 


1. 

GREAT  God !  this  temple  have  we  reared, 
Garnished  of  sovereign  favors  given ; 

Thy  glory  here  shall  be  revered, 

Transcendent  praises  thine  in  heaven. 


Here,  where  the  tribes  oft  paid  a  vow 
When  Eliot  preached  long  days  of  yore, 

We  bring  devout  oblations  now : 
Thy  long  forbearance  we  adore. 
419 


DEDICATION. 
3. 

A  pilgrim  people  here  shall  dwell, 
In  brotherhood  beloved,  benign ; 

And  many  a  heart  shall  learn  and  tell 
Of  love  and  truth  and  faith  divine. 

4. 
Sin,  oft  rebuked  of  thee  and  thine, 

Shall  yield  to  progress  pure,  serene, 
And  Zion  here  shall  rise  and  shine 

In  robes  of  righteousness  supreme. 

5. 
Contrition  true  shall  hither  bring 

Pathetic  praise  and  plaintive  prayer, 
And  sweet  redemption  oft  shall  wing 

Away  on  high  to  mansions  there. 

•     6. 
Guide  us,  O  God !   in  all  we  do ; 

Bring  wayward  wandering  ways  to  light; 
Inspire  us  on  our  journey  through : 
Thy  lovely  face  we'll  keep  in  sight. 
420 


OUR  NATIVE  HOME. 


i. 

DEAR,  dear  to  me  my  native  cot, 
Framed  of  the  father  in  the  wold ; 

My  fond  old  mother  marked  the  lot, 
They  took  it  from  the  tribes  of  old ; 

Sought  out  the  sunbeam,  braved  the  storm 

Of  winter  wild,  of  summer  warm. 

2 

The  giant  growth  of  a  thousand  years, 
The  sturdy  oak,  the  clambering  vine, 

Fell  at  the  foot  of  pioneers, 

That  greeted  then  that  olden  time ; 

Frail,  frail  the  bluff,  the  barrier  bold, 

In  sight  of  the  valiant  hearts  of  old ! 
421 


OUR   NATIVE    HOME. 
3. 

The  war-whoop  wild  had  waned  away, 
Strong  garrisons  stood  tenantless ; 

Still  did  the  prowling  beast  of  prey 
Bestir  a  boundless  wilderness ; 

For  then  he  felt  a  pang,  a  pain, 

At  death  and  danger,  kindred  slain. 

4. 
Next  then  to  toil  a  new  world  yields, 

The  wheel  to  whirl  at  early  morn ; 
Wealth  wings  her  way  from  furrowed  fields, 

And  Johnny  thrives  on  a  cake  of  corn. 
Down  all  the  way  'twas  even  so, 
Through  that  primeval  long  ago. 

5. 
Next  then  anon  advancing  years 

Brought  valiant  sous  and  daughters  many 
They  vowed  and  vied,  brave  volunteers, 

To  save  the  sire  a  needful  penny ; 
Nor  dunce  nor  drone  in  field  or  fen 
Noted  or  known  were  nurtured  then. 
422 


ITS    INSPIRATIONS. 
6. 

Old  cot,  I  gaze  upon  ye  now,  — 

Oft-changing  place  to  look  thee  o'er; 

We  seem  to  see  the  floweret,  how 
It  budded  blooming  at  thy  door ; 

Imparted  love  to  high  and  low, 

Those  many,  many  years  ago. 

7. 
Ye  tell  me  of  paternal  toil, 

That  fenced  the  field  in  fervent  care ; 
Brought  golden  harvests  from  the  soil, 

Through  constant  culture  generous,  fair. 
Brave,  kindly  spirits,  filial,  dear, 
Associations  linger  here. 

8. 

Still  here  to  heed  the  hand,  the  heart, 
That  fed  the  flame  of  infant  3'ears, 

Inspiring  every  aim  and  art 

To  a  life  of  labor,  joy,  and  tears  ; 

That  bright  illumed  the  path  I've  trod 

In  truth  to  manhood,  —  faith  in  God. 


OUR   NATIVE   HOME. 
9. 

I  look  me  round ;  that  willow-tree, 
Of  time  and  tempest  torn  and  broken, 

The  b3*gone  }-ears  it  brings  to  me, 
Impressing  what  the  fates  betoken, — 

Life's  brief  career,  the  rise,  the  fall ; 

Breathing  a  song,  a  sigh  for  all. 

10. 

Old  tree,  once  lofty,  bright,  and  green, 
Thee  then  the  wild-bird  merry  blessed, 

Inspired  her  3'oung  thy  boughs  between, 
And  the  play-boy  oft  th}-  branches  pressed. 

Yet  tragic  now  the  sigh,  the  moan, 

The  boy  no  more,  the  wild-bird  flown. 

11. 
Note  next  the  briery  lane,  forlorn, 

The  cow-path  old  of  earliest  pride, 
Where  oft  I  followed  the  herds  at  morn, 

Or  hied  them  home  at  eventide. 
The  partridge  wild  drummed  in  the  woods, 
The  flails  were  noisy,  and  the  floods. 
424 


SACRED,    SOUGHT. 
12. 

Bright  fields  far  back  my  visions  fill ; 

The  flowery  glen,  the  pasture  green ; 
The  bleating  flock  hangs  on  the  hill, 

And  the  herds  recline  the  lea  serene. 
Sweet  now  as  then  each  sight  or  sound, 
Leering  the  wayward  world  around. 

13. 

Vast  Nature  noble,  ever  beauteous ! 

Each  hallowed  spot  is  mine  once  more ; 
Translated  hence,  yet  ever  duteous, 

I'll  turn  to  greet  thee  as  of  yore ; 
For  aye  to  know  thy  days  divine, 
That  halcyon  home,  my  boyhood  prime. 
425 


HOW  SWEET  THE  HOUR! 


i. 

How  sweet  the  hour  we  consecrate 

To  a  purpose  true  divine ; 
Supernal  grace  to  celebrate 

In  reverential  rhyme ! 

2. 
Look  down,  O  Father,  while  we  sing, 

With  kind  approvals  given ; 
Devout  hosannas  will  we  bring, 

A  song  of  faith  and  heaven. 

3. 
Let  thankful  choral  throngs  unite 

In  praises  long  and  loud ; 
Give  inspiration,  gospel  light, 
And  cast  away  the  cloud. 
48H 


OUR    PILGRIMAGE. 
4. 

Light  touch  the  trembling  organ's  note 

To  fill  the  tune  with  love ; 
To  thee  each  humble  heart  devote, 

And  bear  our  souls  above. 

5. 

'Tis  through  the  night  of  tragic  years 
The  pilgrim  plods  his  way : 

Far  up  from  mingled  joy  and  tears 
He  drinks  the  dawn  of  day. 
427 


THE   OLD   ELM. 


[Given  at  the  advent  of  the  first  horse-cars  into  Centralville  in  1874.] 


MY  brethren  all  of  the  Spindle  City, 
You  crave  my  music,  seldom  witty, 
Perchance  a  sermon,  song,  or  ditty, 

Me  much  inthralling ; 
To  serve  your  God  and  fellow-man, 
What  loftier,  nobler,  better  plan  ? 
Brave  well  the  world  as  best  3'ou  can, 

At  duteous  calling. 

Unfettered,  free  from  fret  or  fragor, 
At  constant  care,  supernal  labor, 
You'll  bring  to  faith,  to  friend  or  neighbor, 
A  glorious  glee. 
428 


ITS   VISIONS. 


From  o'er  the  way  you've  rattled  along, 
With  many  a  car  a  gallant  throng ; 
Lured,  while  you  list,  I'll  bring  a  song, 


THE    BRADLEY   TREE. 


Monarch  of  all  the  woods  around, 
Far  waving  o'er  the  grateful  ground, 
Where  shall  thy  prototype  be  found, 

In  might  or  magic? 
Imperial,  spacious,  noble  form, 
Inured  to  climate  cold  or  warm, 
Ye've  braved  full  many  a  howling  storm, 

Terrific,  tragic ! 

2. 

Ye've  towered  to  the  midnight  starry  sky, 
You've  scanned  the  daybreak  from  on  high, 
Ye've  seen  the  Indian  arrows  fly, 
Long  days  of  yore. 
429 


THE    OLD   ELM. 

The  wild  wolf  tribute  nightly  paid ; 
The  screech-owl  lingered  in  thy  shade; 
Each  to  a  plan  had  progress  made, 
For  love  and  lore. 

3. 

Unnumbered  nestlings  of  the  spring, 
Taught  day  by  day  to  wing  and  sing, 
Oft  hither  turned,  were  wont  to  bring 

A  song  to  thee. 

Sweet  robin  carolled  from  above, 
The  bobolink,  the  wren,  the  dove, 
Ten  thousand  wild  birds  brought  their  love, 

Oblations  free. 

4. 

The  Indian  mother,  you've  seen  her  how 
She  swung  her  baby  on  the  bough ; 
And  swain  and  maiden  brought  a  vow 

For  many  a  year. 

Old  tree,  I  hail  thee,  tempest  riven, 
Whose  life's  calm  sunshine  God  had  given, 
And  on  whose  dust  the  dews  of  heaven 

Have  dropped  a  tear. 
430 


SOUGHT   OF   THE   TRIBES. 
5. 

True  do  ye  tell  another  tale, 

Of  war  and  blood  along  the  vale ; 

How  oft  you've  heard  the  fearful  wail 

Of  the  many  distressed  ; 
Bleak  north  winds  heaved  their  sighs  again, 
At  Varnham  fated,  vanquished,  slain ; 
While  far  adown  the  woodland  plain 

The  tribes  are  pressed. 

ft 

Wild  roaming  oft  o'er  hill  and  dell, 

Each  tribe,  in  truth,  had  loved  thee  well, 
Thy  shades  beneath,  thou  canst  but  tell 

How  many  were  blessed. 
Yet  tearful  oft  while  down  they  drew 
To  a  shady  shore  a  birch  canoe, 
Consigning  here  as  wont  to  do 

Their  dead  at  rest. 

7. 
Next  did  the  white  man  bring  the  plough, 

Upturned  the  glebe  beneath  thy  bough, 
And  men  and  maids  were  moved  as  now 
Of  the  gracious  Giver. 
431 


THE    OLD    ELM. 

Fair  then  prolific  fields  abound, 
Productions  gladdened  all  the  ground, 
And  many  a  mansion  girts  thee  round, 
High  on  the  river. 

8. 

Then,  then  ye  saw  the  busy  throng 
At  husbandry  these  vales  along, 
Through  science,  art,  and  labor  strong, 

To  gain  a  penny. 

How  waters  wild  from  the  mountain  rill, 
To  floods  that  move  the  mighty  mill, 
Ten  thousand  spools  and  spindles  fill, 

Fine  fabrics  many. 

9. 

All  these  and  more,  old  tree,  j'ou'd  seen 
In  life's  long  varied  years  serene, 
Till  the  fates  foreboding  intervene, 

Dread  clouds  o'ercast : 
Wild  now  tempestuous  waters  dash, 
'Mid  thunders,  mutterings,  fire  and  flash, 
Old  Neptune  roared,  and  with  a  crash 

Ye  fell  at  last. 
432 


FATED,    FALLEN. 
10. 

Earth,  troubled,  veiled  her  face  awhile, 
And  strong  men  stubborn  to  beguile, 
With  sacred  rites  at  a  funeral  pile, 

Bend,  bend  forlorn. 

Thus,  overwhelmed  of  storm  and  blast, 
Th}'  statel}',  proud  proportions  vast, 
Laid  low  in  dust,  consigned  at  last 

To  a  fated  form. 


11. 

'Twas  so  of  life  in  the  towering  tree, 
The  same  is  life  with  you  and  me: 
We  tower,  we  thrive,  we  flourish  free, 

Mid  storms  of  heaven. 
Yet,  yet  how  soon  its  train  to-day 
Shall  take  a  trip  another  way !  — 
Driven  down  of  gales,  shall  cast  its  clay 

To  the  tempest  riven. 


433 


THE    OLD    ELM. 

Thus,  then,  my  brother,  such  is  life, 
And  such  its  progress,  rightful  rife, 
Through  all  its  stages,  strength,  and  strife, 

We  work  at  will. 
Proud  in  the  purpose  of  to-day, 
"With  tramping  steeds  first  on  the  way 
You've  made  the  car- wheel  whirl  and  play 

To  Centralville. 

All  hail !  majestic  mayor  men, 
To  donors  generous  man}-  we  ken, 
Oblations  prompt  pertain  to  them, 

In  mass  unmeasured. 
We  bring  you  thanks  for  a  noble  deed, 
We  bring  ye  love  as  a  brother's  need, 
Both  you  and  \-ours  true,  true  indeed, 

Our  hearts  have  treasured. 
434 


MAY-DAY. 


MORNING  breaking  brightly  beauteous 
Moves  the  world  to  hope  and  health ; 

Making  glad  its  imTiads  duteous, 
Bringing  bounteous  weal  and  wealth. 

CHORUS:  Sing,  oh,  sing,  for  this  is  May  Day! 

Life  is  brief,  yet  bright  at  dawn; 
Hearts  high  beating,  making  headway. 
Bearing  balmy  flowers  along. 


Teacher:  Children  whom  from  afar  advancing, 

Banded  wandering  o'er  the  way, 
Bring  a  garland  bright,  entrancing, 
Grateful  greeting  gala-day. 
435 


MAY  DAY. 
3. 

Noisy  all  at  flippant  chatting, 

High  in  hope,  and  full  of  glee ; 
Proud  in  all  }'our  pathwaj-s  patting, 

Far  in  forest,  lawn,  or  lea. 

4. 
Oh,  how  like  the  song-bird  swinging 

'Bove  the  branchy,  shady  bower, 
Heart  and  voices  sweetly  bringing 

Love  and  praise  to  the  golden  hour! 
CHORUS  :  Sing,  oh,  sing,  &c. 

NATURE. 

5. 

Dear  old  dame,  adorned  in  beauty, 
Bright  in  green  her  vast  domain, 
Prompt  to  true  maternal  duty, 
Paints  her  fields  of  flowers  again. 

6. 
Once  again  she  pours  bright  waters 

From  the  frosty  mount  afar ; 
Noisy  little  sons  and  daughters 
Leaping,  glittering  like  a  star. 
436 


NATURE   AT   WORK. 

7. 

Once  again  she  moves  the  fishes, 

Fed  of  ocean,  lake,  and  river ; 
Nice  to  fill  your  daily  dishes, 

Generous,  gentle,  gracious  giver! 

8. 
Once  again  she  sends  her  zephyrs, 

Moving  many  a  highland  tree ; 
Tuning  tranquil,  varied  vespers, 

Soft  they  languish  love  to  thee. 

y. 
Once  again  she  calls  her  songsters 

From  the  far-off  sunm-  clime ; 
Parent  bird  and  tranquil  3'oungsters, 

Kind  connubial  hearts  divine. 
CHORUS  :  Sing,  oh,  sing,  &c. 

THE  INQUIRY. 

]0. 

Tell  me  now,  oh !    tell  me  whither, 
Little  wanderers,  you  have  been ; 

O'er  the  landscape  linked  together, 
Rambling  thither  what  3"ou've  seen. 
437 


MAT  DAT. 
11. 

What  beguiled  your  wayward  walking, 
Wanton  wild  with  one  another? 

All  that's  worthy  of  your  talking, 
All  about  that  dear  old  mother? 

THE  REPLT. 

12. 

Fred:       We  have  climbed  the  hill-top  shady, 

Strolled  in  verdant  valleys  wide, 
Each  inspired  of  lad  or  lady, 
Cheerful  chattering  side  by  side. 

.     13. 
And  we've  seen  her  image  flashing 

From  the  dewdrop  green  and  glorious ; 
In  the  fountain  sweeping,  dashing, 

Vast  in  volume,  clear  in  chorus. 

14. 

Millie:     Yes,  we've  heard  the  lambkin  bleating 

High  upon  yon  sunny  side ; 
Flocked  in  kind,  paternal  keeping, 
Where  no  lurking  foes  betide. 
438 


SIGHT    SEEING. 

15. 

Guy:        Beauteous  there  we  saw  the  robin 

Making  low  his  favored  nest ; 
While  the  jay  on  high  was  bobbing, 
Blue  in  checkered  jacket  dressed. 

16. 

Susie:       Next  we  saw  ny  pretty  sparrow 

In  the  blooming  orchard  green ; 
Ne'er  to  fear  the  fatal  arrow, 
Listening  to  his  little  queen. 

17. 
Sadie:      Far  we  heard  the  partridge  drumming, 

Prompt  at  dawn  of  duty  led  ; 
And  the  bee  was  busy  humming, 
Brave  above  a  balmy  bed. 

18. 

Bertie:      Then  we  saw  the  curious  squirrel 
Chippering  to  his  home  away  ; 
Far  from  conflict,  ne'er  to  quarrel, 
Cosey  'neath  his  native  clay. 
439 


MAY    DAT. 

" 

19. 

Grace:     All  were  we  of  joy  elated 

At  the  sight  of  chick-a-ree, 
At  the  blue-bird  merry  mated, 
Bobolincon,  ehick-a-dee-dee ; 

20. 
At  the  fishes  in  the  fountain, 

At  the  warbler  on  the  willow, 
At  the  rabbit  'neath  the  mountain, 

At  the  sea-bird  from  the  billow. 

21. 

Lotta :       Then  far  distant  we  saw  coming 

Flocks  migrating,  pledged  in  love, 
Talking  onward,  coy  and  cunning, 
Sweeping,  trailing  far  above. 

CHORUS  :  Sing,  oJi,  sing,   &c. 

22. 

Teacher:  Gay  you've  sought  yon  silvery  waters, 

Glen,  the  glade,  and  waving  wild-wood ; 
Nature  loves  her  sons  and  daughters, 
Blest  in  cheerful  hours  of  childhood. 
440 


THE    CORONATION. 
23. 

'Tis  for  thee  she  feeds  her  posies, 
Paints  the  vernal  valley  green ; 

Fragrant  fills  ambrosial  roses, 
Proud  to  adorn  a  May-day  queen. 

24. 

Choose  you  now  your  favored  stations, 
Clad  with  garlands,  at  the  call ; 

Bring  your  beauteous,  best  oblations ; 
Crown  your  queen  !  —  in  chorus  all : 

CHORUS:  Sing,  oh,  sing,  for  this  is  May  Day ! 

Life  is  brief,  yet  bright  at  daivn; 
Hearts  high  beating,  making  headway, 
Bring  your  balmy  flowers  along. 
441 


IMPROMPTU. 


[Returned,  on  the  receipt  of  a  casket  of  wine,  and  large  clusters  of  hot- 
house grapes.] 


TEN  thousand  thanks  to  Dr.  Ayer! 

For  the  wine  was  red,  and  the  grapes  are  fair, 

And  the  heart  is  warm  in  tender  care 

For  me  and  mine : 
Live  long  to  heal  the  human  race, 
All  over  the  world,  in  every  place; 
Vast  benedictions,  sovereign  grace, 

To  thee  and  thine ! 

E.  B.  C. 

OCT.  20, 1873. 

442 


A  MONTH  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


[SEARCHING  FOR  THE  RECORD.*] 


ARGUMENT. 

1.  Oblivion. —2.  The  Historian's  Solicitation.  —  3.  The  Lady's  Response.— 
4.  — Sordid  Indifference,  its  Penalty.  — 5.  Faith  with  Works,  its  Re- 
wards.—6.  Angelic  Apparitions.  —  7.  Their  Identification.  —  8.  Maggie's 
Tree. —  9.  Time  and  its  Work.  —  10.  In  a  Cloud  They  come. —  11.  The 
Night  Scene.  — 12.  Day-dawn,  and  the  Departure. 

OBLIVION. 

0  THOU  unfettered,  unforbidclen  foe 

To  man's  ambition,  fortitude,  or  fame ! 
Nor  scheme,  nor  plan,  nor  purpose  here  below, 

But  finds  in  thee  the  bugbear  and  the  bane. 

Disguised  in  stealth,  yc  creep  creation  o'er, 
'Neath  shades  of  night  beclouding  all  the  way 

Where  generations  vast  advanced  of  yore, 
And  Earth's  renown  lies  buried,  lost  for  aye. 

*  This  poem  was  at  first  printed  in  an  appendix  to  the  History  of  Bani- 
s:<;:id. —  was  intended  as  a  tribute  to  a  lady  who  had  generously  obtained, 
to  the  use  of  the  author,  copies  of  the  monumental  inscriptions  from  the 
numerous  graveyards  of  that  spacious  town. 

443 


A  MONTH  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 

Now  in  the  hills  I  stand  beneath  the  gloom 
That  bilges  pendent  o'er  a  bleaky  brow, 

To  cast  a  flower  on  many  a  crumbling  tomb, 
For  hearts  heroic,  half  forgotten  now. 


SOLICITATION. 

Give  me  thine  aid,  ye  gods  of  early  date, 
Or  native  nymph,  or  spirit  from  above ; 

Snatch  from  the  fangs  of  unrelenting  fate 
The  fading  memories  of  paternal  love ! 

While  thus  I  stood,  beseeching  and  besought, 
With  harp  unstrung  in  tuneless  silence  laid, 

A  gallant  lady  to  nry  vision  brought 

The  graveyard  gates  of  Barnstead's  honored  dead. 


RESPONSE   AND   THE    ADVANCE. 

"Sing  now,"  said  she,  "the  deeds  of  other  days; 

Wake  once  again  thy  tired  strings  anew ; 
Our  fathers  old,  their  rude  and  rustic  ways, 

Their  frugal,  faithful  pilgrimage,  review." 
444 


THE    ADVANCE. 

Then  straight  away  while  dawn  in  lovety  light 
Doth  come  to  gild  the  purple  hills  with  gold ; 

While  mild  October  from  the  forest  bright 

Displaj-s  proud  colorings,  beauteous  to  behold,  — 

She  turns ;  meandering  where  departing  night 
Hath  spread  the  vales  in  pathless  pearly  dews ; 

And  where  old  Time  had  cast  his  baleful  blight 
In  days  of  yore,  sweet  garlands  there  she  strews. 

Down  thence  afar,  in  all  the  varied  fields, 
In  valley  low,  in  upland  fresh  and  fair, 

Wild  at  her  feet  the  nodding  floweret  yields 
Obeisance  proucll}*  to  her  presence  there, — 

Where  long  ago,  advancing  sad  and  slowly, 
Processions  came,  dark,  winding  on  the  way, 

From  plaintive  prayer,  and  exhortation  holy, 
They  bore  their  kindred  tenderly  away. 

Deep  there  she  dwells,  where  now  the  sainted  dead, 
'Neath  mossy  mound,  or  sod  with  briers  set, 

In  pent-up  lanes  or  careful  corners  laid, 

Long,  tardy  years  in  loneliness  have  slept,  — 
445 


A    MONTH    AMONG    THE    TOMBS. 

To  trace  rude  records,  latent,  there  beclouded, 
A  line  of  love,  a  stanza  quaint,  sublime, 

Or  some  old  text  which  Nature  hath  enshrouded 
Beneath  the  tears  of  overwhelming  Time. 

Full  forty  da.ys  her  faithful  fingers  gather 
From  granite  gray,  or  sable  slab  of  old, 

In  rude  old  rhymes,  yet  sentimental  rather, 
The  last  sad  tale  which  fond  affection  told, 

Up  from  the  soul  when  fettered  in  affliction, 
Beneath  a  cloud  high  from  the  heavens  hung ; 

Nor  prayer,  nor  faith,  nor  bounteous  benediction, 
Assuaged  the  grief  that  clustered  where  it  clung. 

Here  many  a  neighbor  curious  at  the  call, 
Holding  a  helping  hand,  came  gathered  near ; 

And  priest  and  people,  draped  in  homespun,  all 
Brought  regal  honors  to  a  rugged  bier. 

Here  stood  a  father  deep  in  sorrow,  mild, 
A  mother  bending  o'er  a  manly  boy, 

A  lonely  daughter  led  a  little  child, 
And  left  a  tear  to  a  true  departed  jo}'. 
446 


THE    BURIAL. 

Here  stood  a  soldier,  strong  in  revolution, 

Whose  heart  it  failed  not,  firm  in  battle,  brave, 

For  freedom  fair,  for  God  and  constitution, 
Valiant  for  aye,  —  it  faltered  at  the  grave. 

O  God  (hat  gives  us  sympathetic  tears, 

That  fosters  love  to  the  kingdoms  all  around ! 

Why  should  the  Page  of  patriotic  }-ears 
Be  lost,  forgotten,  never  to  be  found? 

Why  like  the  deeds  of  distant  boundless  ages, 

While  rambling  red  men  wandered  through  the  wold, 

Whose  only  record  lingers  on  the  pages 

Left  brief  from  hearsay  of  the  English  old,  — 

Should  that  be  lost?     Forgotten,  shall  they  vanish, 
Primeval  deeds  of  brave  New-England  days? 

Oh,  give  me  pride,  a  cultivation  clannish, 
A  filial  faith  to  pen  heroic  praise ! 

SORDID    INDIFFERENCE. 

Shame  on  the  cur  unworthy  of  a  collar. 

Lured  of  a  lie,  holds  ne'er  his  master's  place ! 

Yet  not  unlike  him  he  that  hugs  the  dollar, 
Nor  spares  a  dime  for  the  annals  of  his  race. 
447 


A  MONTH  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 

Then  let  the  luckless  day  that  bore  him  perish ! 

Let  the  night  that  bred  him  deep  in  darkness  lie ! 
For  him  no  charm  shall  Nature  deign  to  cherish, 

No  balm  of  earth,  nor  bliss  from  God  on  high. 

Where  shall  he  rest,  who  knows  no  thought  paternal, 
Nor  has  a  heed  for  any  thing  but  self? 

With  aspirations  fruitless,  frail,  infernal, 

Favored  of  heaven,  yet  pants  for  paltry  pelf! 

Make  him  a  grave  in  a  far-off,  mazy  meadow, 
In  a  desert  drear,  beyond  the  hooting  owl, 

Where  the  summer  cloud  shall  never  show  a  shadow, 
Unseen  of  the  bird,  abhorred  of  beasts  that  prowl,  - 

And  bury  him  low ;  let  solitude  attend  him,  — 
No  star  for  the  night,  no  genial  dawn  of  day, 

Nor  sight  nor  sound,  let  Nature  deign  to  lend  him, 
Save  from  the  jackal  digging  for  his  prey! 

FAITH    AND    ITS    REWARD. 

Kindness  "  to  him  that  shows  it"  is  but  just; 

Earth's  charities  are  favored  of  the  skies ; 
Her  sinful  self  must  sink  to  sordid  dust ; 

Her  rich  rewards  are  waiting  for  the  wise. 
448 


ANGELIC    APPARITIONS. 

Give  me  the  man  who  has  a  soul  within  him, 
A  heart  for  heaven,  a  hand  for  a  noble  deed ; 

That  lives  to  learn,  and  learns  to  carry  in  him 
.God's  golden  rule,  the  emblem  of  his  creed ! 

ANGELIC    APPARITIONS. 

Return  me  hence,  from  unreserved  digression 
To  the  vale  below,  where,  faithful  to  a  vow, 

That  lady  wandering  strives  to  give  expression 
To  unique  phrase,  timeworn,  half-hidden  now. 

The  grave-gate  turns  its  hopeful  hinges  fair, 
As  if  to  help  a  welcome  heart  within ; 

The  dead  are  heedful ;  angels  have  a  care 

To  such  a  mission,  true  the}'  "  work  to  win." 

For  now,  while  twilight  burns  the  western  sky, 
Down  from  a  cloud  that  hovers  o'er  the  tomb, 

Sprite- voices  come,  —  I  seem  to  see  them  nigh,  — 
And  one  "  Lone  Star"  doth  dissipate  the  gloom. 

'Mid  slumbers  deadly  am  I  dreaming  now? 

Is  there  no  God  to  move  the  spheres  above, 
No  angel  voice  to  breathe  a  tender  vow, 

No  sainted  soul  to  tell  us  of  his  love? 
449 


A   MONTH    AMONG    THE   TOMBS. 

Indeed  I  see  them  in  the  sabled  cloud, 
The  manhood  meek  of  earthy  olden  time, 

Of  Mary  there  they  whisper  long  and  loud, 
From  heaven  all,  arid  equally  divine. 

FAMILIAR    SPIRITS. 

Sure  he  is  there,  whose  banner  bright,  unfurled, 
Bore  on  its  folds  that  beauteous  beaming  star, 

Who  preached  salvation  to  "  a  dying  world," 
And  left  it  better  than  he  found  it,  far. 

1  see  the  soul  that  followed,  many  a  day, 

The  miry  beast  that  dragged  the  plough  along ; 

The  (frugal  heart  through  all  its  rustic  way, 
That  cheered  these  vales  with  piety  and  song. 

Note  there  the  youths,  then  brief  in  earth's  career, 
"Who  ^brought  rich  harvests  to  the  help  of  age, 

"Whose  noble  natures  brave,  fraternal,  dear, 
Bequeathed  to  the  world  a  pure  historic  page. 

Note  there  the  sprite  of  fated  Indian  life, 

Whose  arrow  clings  to  the  farthest  distant  cloud, 

Whose  vengeance  flashes  in  the  heavens  rife, 
Beyond  the  mountains  murmuring  yet  aloud. 
460 


CHILDHOOD    HOURS. 

Note  there  the  Pilgrim,  pride  of  all  that  came, 
Who  led  the  white  man,  trained  him  for  the  skies, 

In  all  this  earthly  round  who  fanned  the  flame 
That  fired  a  nation's  faith,  and  made  it  wise. 

MAGGIE'S  TREE. 
Note  there  serene,  a  daughter  sainted  free, 

Brief-known  of  Earth  benignant  favored  found, 
Who  sought  the  shades  of  yonder  towering  tree 

There  to  recline  the  eternal  years  around. 

High  on  these  hills  she'd  wandered  in  her  childhood, 
Lovely  to  dance  sweet  summer  days  along, 

And  oft  in  flowery  vale  or  waving  wildwood, 
Inspired  the  bluebird  with  her  little  song. 

Then  long  ago  beneath  green  branches  youthful 
The}'  thither  laid  her,  true,  more  tender  never, 

Still,  still  that  old  birch-tree  is  heavenward  truthful, 
Bearing  brave  honors  to  that  loved  one  ever. 

Kind  spirits  flit  within  its  aged  boughs, 

Bright  night  hath  come  to  lave  its  leaves  with  tears, 
Soft  zephyrs  sigh  their  wonted  tender  vows 

To  Maggie  faithful  slumbering  seventy  years. 
451 


A    MONTH    AMONG    THE    TOMBS. 

Ten  thousand  days'  bright  dawn  hath  lit  upon  it, 
Ten  thousand  nights'  sweet  stars  soft  glittering  there, 

Ten  thousand  wild  birds  lovely  warbling  on  it, 
Have  brought  oblations  to  my  Maggie  fair. 

TIME    AND    ITS   WORK. 

Earth's  tardy  years  are  nothing  in  His  sight, 
Who  rolls  the  spheres  in  majesty  above, 

Whose  sun  on  high  is  but  a  candle-light, 
To  lead  frail  mortals  to  a  throne  of  love. 

Yet  have  these  }-ears  worked  wonders  in  their  way, 
Bright  links  they've  formed  in  the  eternity  of  time ; 

They've  laid  the  Pilgrim  old,  earth-loved,  away ; 
They've  given  to  God  the  patriot  pure,  divine. 

IN   A    CLOUD    THEY    COME. 

Brave,  heaven-taught  hosts,  our  fathers,  mothers,  all ; 

I  hail  their  presence  in  the  purpled  air ; 
Deep  in  the  vale  approvingly  they  call 

Kind  commendation  true  to  Mary  there. 

Calmly  they  scan  her  late  benighted  wanderings, 
Her  faith  in  God,  her  truth  in  every  duty, 
452 


NATURE   AT    NIGHT. 

Her  care  for  kindred,  pencillings,  and  ponderings, 
Earth's  favored  form,  and  life's  transcendent   beauty. 

At  length  to  turn  the  finished  field  away, 

Ten  times  they  thank  her  in  that  mission  free; 

Ten  times  they  chant  a  soft  angelic  lay, 

Sweet,  like  the  zephyrs,  in  that  ancient  tree. 

THE    NIGHT    SCENE. 

Ah !  what  a  change !     Fair  dawn  hath  lost  her  light, 
The  murky  shades  have  mantled  earth  and  main  ; 

Soon,  soon  afar  "  that  gentle  queen  of  night," 
High  on  the  mountains,  lights  them  up  again. 

Oh,  what  a  world  of  glory  shines  above  us ! 

What  boundless  realms,  what  beaut}-  beams  below  ! 
What  constant  faith  and  care  from  Him  who  loves  us ! 

And  all  for  what?    Frail  nature  ne'er  can  know. 

Ye  stately  heights,  that  stand  against  the  sky ! 

Ye  ocean  waves  that  dash  a  boundless  shore ! 
Lured  of  thy  love  I  scan  ye  now  on  high, 

Eternal  there,  majestic  as  of  yore. 
453 


A  MONTH  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 

Thine  were  the  tribes  of  vast  uncounted  years ; 

The  wigwam  wild,  indeed,  was  thine  alone ; 
Thine  was  the  pride  of  Pilgrim  pioneers, 

The  white  man's  hamlet,  heritage,  and  home ! 

Hail !    happy  hills  and  valleys  lovely,  green ! 

Fair  flocks  in  pastures  which  the  fathers  trod, 
Old  Suncook  rolls  sweet  flowery  fields  between ; 

Her  mountain  peaks  are  pointing  up  to  God. 

DAWN    OF    DAY. 

Awake,  ye  sons  and  favored  daughters  true ! 

To  faith  and  works  there  is  a  treasured  crown, 
A  glorious  morn  is  breaking  bright  for  you, 

While  at  your  door  I  lay  your  annals  down. 

Farewell,  my  long-loved  native  hills,  for  aye ! 

Your  own  bright  waters  never  more  I'll  see  : 
I'll  bear  your  beauty  in  my  soul  away 

Where  waves  the  cypress  waiting,  beckoning  me. 

R.  B.  C. 

AUG.  31,  1872. 

454 


APPENDIX. 

Note  1,  p:ige  12.  An  Eagle,  iu  Vicuna,  lived  iA'  confinement  after 
his  capture,  104  years.  A  Maine  journal  says:  "There  is  an  eagle's 
nest  in  a  tree  on  the  shore  of  the  Mattawaurnkeag  Lake  in  Maine, 
which  has  continued  there  ever  since  the  country  was  lir.-st  visited  by 
white  men." 

Note  2,  page  21.  The  ark  rested  on  the  17th  day  of  the  7th  mouth  ou 
Mount  Ararat;  and  the  waters  decreased  to  the  1st  day  of  the  10th 
month;  \vheu  the  mountains  were  seen. — Gen.  8:  4,  5.  Ararat  is  in 
the  center  of  Armenia,  and  la  17.200  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

Note  3,  page  22.  "  Then  Job  arose,  and  rent  his  mantle,  and  shavct' 
his  head,  and  fell  down  upon  the  ground  and  worshipped." —  Job  1 
20.  See  also  Job  2 :  1—8,  12, 

Note  4,  page  23.  One  of  the  A  Syrian  gods  was  in  form,  an  eagle's 
head  and  a  man's  body;  in  who.se  temple  and  in  the  very  act  »•! 
idolatry,  Sennacherib  was  slain  by  his  two  sons.  .Among  the  ancienl 
Arabs  also,  the  Eagle  was  held  as  an  idol. — Lii'j.  Die.  Niarnc.k. 

2  Kings  19 :  17, 18. 

455 


APPENDIX. 

Note  5,  page  23.  Horcb  includes  a  group  of  summits  of  which  Sinai 
is  one.  It  is  in  Arabia  Petrea,  between  the  two  arms  of  the  Red  Sea. 
Here  Moses  wandered  after  he  had  slain  the  Egyptian,  saw  the  burn- 
ing bush,  and  received  a  commission ;  and  here  he  heard  and  obeyed 
the  command:  "Take  thy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet;  for  the  place  0:1 
•which  thou  standest  is  holy  ground."  Elijah  took  up  his  residence 
here  in  a  cave,  when  he  had  fled  from  the  wrath  of  Jezebel,  and  here 
he  sat  under  the  juniper  tree,  end  beard  the  "  still  small  voice,''— 
heard  the  earth  quake,  and  saw  the  miraculous  lightnings;  and  it 
was  here  he  received  a  promise  of  God  for  the  deliverance  of  Israel. 

Note  6,  page  23.  In  Mount  M.  >riah,  Abraham  1871  years  B.  C.  offered 
up  Isaac.  On  this  hill  the  temple  of  Jerusalem  was  built ;  and  it  was 
here  that ''  David  interceded  for  his  people  at  the  threshing  floor  of 
Arannah." 

Note  7,  page  23.  Tabor  is  an  isolated  mountain  of  Galilee.  It  is  on  the 
northeastern  side  of  the  plain  of  Esdraclon.  Here  Christ,  with  Moses 
and  Elias,  appeared  in  the  transfiguration.  Peter  proposed  the  building 
of  three  tabernacles  here.  [St.  Matt.  17 : 1-3  ]  And  here,  2000  years 
later,  Napoleon,  [July  25, 1799]  with  3000  Infantry,  under  Kleber  and 
a  small  force  of  Cavalry  under  Murat,  fought  "  the  battle  of  Mount 
Tabor"  against  about  25,000  Turks,  under  Gen'l  " Pacha." 

Kleber,  having  arrived  by  way  of  Nazareth,  and  being  attacked  by 
the  enemy's  Cavalry  in  great  forces,  formed  into  squares  with  his 
456 


NOTKS. 

artillery  at  the  corners.  For  a  long  time  the  contest  was  fearful. 
But  at  length  Napoleon  and  Murat,  descending  from  the  brow  of 
Tabor  with  a  small  reserve  of  Cavalry,  fell  upon  the  flanks  of  the- 
enemy,  and  put  him  to  flight  with  great  slaughter.  Twelve  thousand 
were  slain,  and  6000  Turks  taken  prisoners. 

Note  8,  page  24.  On  Mount  Hor  Aaron  died.  Aaron's  son,  Eleaz^r, 
and  Moses  only  were  present  at  his  death.  His  tomb  is  on  the  summit. 
The  tribes  ia  the  valley  mourned  30  days.  "  This  mountain  is  of 
conical  form,  and  is  on  th.  east  side  of  Arabah,  between  the  Dead  Sea 
and  the  Elanitic  Gulf." 

Note  9,  page  24.  On  Ni>>  ai  the  law  on  the  tables  of  stone  were  given 
to  Moses.  While  there,  away  from  the  tribes,  the  golden  calf  was  con- 
structed under  the  leadership  of  Aaron,  which  in  the  end  cost  the  idol- 
aters 3000  lives.  And  it  does  not  appeal'  that  any  more  such  calves 
were  made  that  year. 

Note  10,  page  24.  In  Uurmel,  Elijah,  in  time  of  drought  and  famine, 
prayed  for  rain.  Up  here  the  tribes  flocked  to  learn  the  cause  of  God's 
displeasure.  Baal's  Prophets,  850  in  number,  were  also  here,  and  the 
top  of  Carmel  was  covered.  And  here  Elijah  stood  forth  inquiring, 
"  How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions  ?  If  the  Lord  be  God,  follow 
him,  but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him?'' 

Elijah  triumphed;  and  here  he  repaired  the  altar  for  the  twelve 
tribes. 

457 


APPENDIX. 

This  mountain  is  upon  a  great  promontory  upon  the  coast  of  Pales- 
tine. Its  summits  are  green  with  trees. 

Note  11,  page  24.  Mount  Zion,  as  well  as  Jerusalem,  is  a  term  often 
used  to  represent  the  Church.  It  is  the  highest  and  the  southernmost 
mount  of  Jerusalem.  It  rises  2500  feet  above  the  Mediterranean  Sea.and 
has  on  its  west  the  valley  of  Gihon,  on  its  south  Hinnon,  and  on  its 
southeast  Kidron. 

Note  12,  page  24.  Joseph  died  B.  C.  1637,  at  the  age  of  110  years,  and 
was  embalmed.  He  had  expressed  a  desire  to  be  buried  at  Canaan. 

Accordingly  150  years  afterwards,  Moses,  the  leader  of  Israel,  took 
the  bones  of  Joseph,  and  carried  them  along  with  the  tribes  through 
the  wilderness.— Gen.  50 :  25,  20.  Exodus  13 :  19. 

And  now  in  Canaan,  near  the  western  entrance  of  the  Valley  of 
Shechem,  beneath  some  tms,  "a  low  stone"  covers  the  grave  of 
Joseph. 

Note  13,  page  24.  From  Mount  Pisgah  Moses  was  permitted  to  see 
Canaan.  Here  he  died,  solitary  and  alone,  after  taking  leave  of  the 
tribes  at  its  base. 

Note  14,  page  24.  "Ye  have  seen  what  I  did  unto  the  Egyptians,  and 
how  I  >bear  you  on  eagles'  wings,  and  brought  you  unto  myself." — 
Exodus  19: 4-6. 

Note  15,  page  29.  The  eagle  was  an  emblem  in  Rome,  in  Persia  ami 
in  Greece  as  he  is  now  in  the  United  States  of  America. 

Note  16,  page  29.    Lebanon  is  the  mountain  of  the  cedars,  alluded  to 
458 


by  the  Prophets  and  Poets  of  Israel  to  illustrate  the  beauties  of  the 
Church. 

Note  17,  page  31  On  Mount  Olivet  occurred  the  conversation  at 
the  tuble.  when  the  disciples  were  iufonned  of  what  was  about  to 
transpire  in  the  betrayal  of  their  Master.  Here  He  was  arrested  by 
the  Roman  soldiers,  who  passed  down  with  their  prisoner  o'vcr  Ke- 
dron  to  Jerusalem. 

The  scene  at  the  crucifixion  is  described  in  St.  Matthew  27 :  45,  46, 
and  by  St.  Mark,  Luke  and  John.  The  trial  was  at  Pilate's  hall  in 
Jerusalem,  and  from  thence  they  proceeded  to  Calvary. 

Note  19  page  32.  "  They  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their 
strength,  they  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles,  they  shall  run  and 
not  be  weary,  and  they  shall  walk  and  not  faint." — Isaiah  40:  31. 

Note  20,  page  36.  A  constellation  in  the  northern  hemisphere  is 
called  "  The  Eagle,"  and  has  its  right  whig  contiguous  to  the  equinoc- 
tial. It  contains  "  Altiar,"  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude. 

459 


APPENDIX. 


(21.)  "  During  the  late  Rebellion  a  veteran  white-headed  eagle  was 
carried  beside  the  standard  bearer  of  the  8th  Wisconsin  Regiment. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  war  he  had  been  taken  in  northern  Wis- 
consin by  a  Chippewa  Indian.  He  was  a  magnificent  bird,  and 
seemed  animated  by  a  national  enthusiasm.  Adopted  as  a  veteran, 
he  became  a  pet  of  the  Regiment.  A  soldier  was  detailed  to  take 
care  of  him  and  act  as  standard  bearer,  who  gave  him  a  place  by  the 
flag ;  his  perch  being  cut  in  the  shape  of  a  shield  and  painted  with 
the  stars  and  stripes. 

He  seemed  proud  of  his  position,  and  often  balanced  himself  with 
expanded  wings, — a  living  national  emblem.  Under  excitement  his 
eye  would  flash,  and  his  feathers  quiver,  as  if  he  held  the  forked 
lightnings  in  his  talons.  The  soldiers  on  catching  a  sight  of  the 
bird  would  kindle  with  fresh  fervor,  and  often  burst  forth  into  cheers ; 
and  when  they  marched  through  a  city,  the  eagle,  borne  aloft,  excited 
the  whole  populace. 

He  seemed  to  share  in  the  excitement  of  battles,  and  was  in 
seventeen  engagements.  He  was  at  the  battle  of  Vicksburg,  at  Little 

Bear  Creek,  and  in  many  tierce  contests.    The  rebels"  called  lu'ni 
460 


NOTES. 

"  Owl; "  and  "  Yankee  Buzzard."  They  hated  him.  One  com- 
rmnder  declared  he  would  rather  capture  that  bird  than  the  whole 
brigade. 

Once  u  bullet  ruffled  his  feathers :  but  it  left  him  unharmed.  He 
fought  through  the  war,  and  came  home  in  safety,  yet,  in  triumph 
seemed  to  rejoice  in  the  knowledge  that  the  old  flag  was  secure. 

When  the  boys  of  the  8th  Wisconsin  returned  home  from  the 
contest,  they  parted  with  their  eagle  with  great  regret.  A  place  was 
assigned  him  in  the  Capitol,  where  he  has  a  room  and  is  well  provided 
for;  and  during  the  morning  he  is  among  the  trees  in  the  park 
enjoying  rest  after  the  battles  for  his  country.  His  name  is  "  Old 
Abe." 

On  the  4th  of  July,  he  was  taken  with  the  flags  captured  in  various 
battles,  and  with  the  powder-stained  banners  which  had  waved 
above  the  noble  volunteers  of  Wisconsin,  was  carried  through  the 
streets  of  the  city,  guarded  by  the  boys  of  the  8th,  who  still  retain 
their  care  for  him. 

It  was  the  event  of  the  day.  Everybody  there  knows  "  Old  Abe." 
And  at  the  Chicago  Fair,  in  aid  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  the  sum 
raised  by  an  additional  fee  for  a  visit  to  the  bird,  amounted  to  $20,000. 
All  honor  to  the  brave  sons  of  Wisconsin !  And  long  life  to  their 
Eagle." — [From  a  letter  in  the  Boston  Transcript.] 
461 


APPEKDIX. 

Note  22,  page  36.  In  the  four  years'  rebellion  which  culminated  in 
the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  United  States,  about  600,000  lives  were 
lost. 

Note  23,  page  37.  Wonalancet  was  a  chief, — was  a  son  of  Passa- 
conaway.  His  wigwam  and  fort  were  at  "Wamesit,  now  Lowell. 
Traces  of  his  fort  are  still  to  be  found  at  Fort  Hill,  about  half  a  mile 
south  of  the  junction  of  the  Concord  and  Merrimac  rivers.  "  This  sa- 
chem countenanced  religion,  and  it  was  at  his  wigwam  that  Mr. 
Elliot  and  Mr.  Gookin,  on  the  5th  of  May,  1764,  held  a  meeting."  His 
house  was  near  Pawtucket  Falls,  on  the  Merrimac.  He  (as  Gookin 
said,)  was  "  a  sober  and  grave  person,  and  of  years,  between  50  and 
60." 

Mr.  Drake,  in  his  history  ol  the  Indians,  tells  the  following 
story :  — 

In  1662,  Winnepurket,  then  known  as  the  Sachem  of  Saugus, 
made  known  to  the  chief  of  Pennacook,  that  he  desired  to  marry  his 
daughter,  which,  being  agreeable  to  all  parties,  was  soon  consum- 
mated at  the  residence  of  Passaconaway,  and  the  hilarity  was  closed 
with  a  great  feast.  And  then,  by  direction  of  the  chief,  a  select 
number  of  men  attended  the  mw -married  couple  to  the  dwelling 
of  the  husband.  There,  also,  they  held  a  feast  several  days.  Such 
was  the  custom  in  the  days  of  "Wonalancet. 

Note  24,  page  42.  "  Then  shall  the  King  say  unto  them  on  his 
right  hand,  cume  ye  blessed  of  my  Father."  .  .  .  "For  I  was  au 
462 


NOTES. 

hungered  and  ye  gave  me  meat.  I  was  thirsty  and  ye  gave  me  drink." 

—  St.  Matt.  25:  34-36. 

Note  25,  page  45.  Fremont  "  hearing  that  Springfield,  fifty-one 
miles  from  his  camp,  was  held  by  only  three  hundred  rebels,  des- 
patched Major  Zagonyi,  a  Hungarian,  with  his  bodyguard  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty,  in  advance  of  his  arrival."  \_lleaMey' s  History, 
vol.  i.  p.  182.]  In  nineteen  hours  they  assailed  the  enemy  victori- 
ously, as  expressed  in  the  context. 

Note  2G,  page  50.  At  a  battle  in  the  "  "Wilderness  "  a  young  soldier 
had  fallen;  and  at  his  burial  a  letter  arrived  fr.'in  the  one  he  loved 
at  home.  As  his  comrades  were  about  to  consign  him  to  his  final 
res'ing  place,  the  letter,  attracting  their  attention,  caused  a  moment's 
delay.  The  chaplain  took  the  letter  and  pinning  it  to  the  bosom  of 
the  soldie--,  addressed  the  bearers  thus:  "Now  bury  him; — he'll 
read  it  when  he  wakes." 

Note  27,  page  63.  This  passage  refers  to  a  lad  late  deceased,  who 
lived  >n  the  neighborhood  of  this  grove  and  used  to  swing  on  a  tree 
above  a  spacious  rock,  and  had  become  the  pet  of  the  visitors  at 
Greenwood. 

Note  28,  page  72.  The  grove  referred  to  stands  on  a  high  point  of 
land  in  Centralville,  Lowell,  Mass.,  which  overlooks  "Hunt's  Falls" 
and  the  city.  Its  shade  and  prospect  are  grateful  to  visitors  who  go 
up  there,  as  well  as  to  the  feathered  tribe. 

Note  29,  page  74.    Tisquantum  was  a  Chief  of  the  Patuxet  Tribe 
463 


APPENDIX. 

who,  among  others,  roved  upon  the  rivers  of  New  England.  When 
a  lad,  he  was  carried  to  England  by  a  vessel  that  came  to  the  New 
World,  and  was  held  there  as  a  curiosity.  But  having,  somehow, 
found  his  way, back  here,  he,  in  course  of  tune,  became  a  chief. — 
When  the  Pilgrims  came,  Tisquantum  had  become  old,  and  all  his 
tribe  had  been  swept  away  by  the  plague  of  1617.  He  was  friendly 
to  the  Pilgrims,  joined  their  church,  but  lived  thereafterward  only 
about  two  years.  He  died  in  1622.  The  death  of  the  Patuxet  tribe 
was  regarded  by  the  Pilgrims  as  a  special  interposition  of  Providence 
in  opening  a  space  for  the  planting  of  their  colony. 

Note  30,  page  90.  A  national  convention  was  held  at  Chicago  in 
1864  in  which  it  is  said  the  confederacy  took  deep  interest. 

Note  31,  page  90.  On  Feb.  3.  1865,  R.  M.  Hunter  of  Va.,  A. 
H.  Stevens,  and  J.  A.  Campbell  of  Alabama,  as  agents  for  the  Con. 
federate  States,  came  to  Hampton  Roads,  and  made  proposals  to  Mr. 
Lincoln  for  a  compromise,  thereby  to  prevent,  as  they  pretended,  all 
further  progress  of  the  war.  But  the  negotiation  failed. 

Note  32,  page  104.  During  the  rebellion,  some  of  the  Senators  and 
Representatives  in  Congress,  had  been  expelled  for  disloyalty. 

Note  33,  page  108.  The  fact  that  Gen.  Patterson  did  not  intercept 
Johnston's  march  on  his  way  to  this  battle,  was  taken  by  many  as 
evidence  of  P's  disloyalty.  But,  as  against  a  veteran  officer,  previ- 
ously well  tried  and  sustained,'  we  do  not  believe  the  suspicion  to  be 

well  founded. 

464 


NOTES. 

Note  34,  page  109.  Wm.  H.  Russell  represented  the  "  London 
Times,"  in  the  retreat  at  Bull  Run. 

Note  35,  page  130.  Arlington  Heights  is  the  center  of  a  large  estate 
of  1,165  acres  of  land,  with  a  stately  mansion,  which,  from  its  lofty 
position,  overlooks  to  the  eastward,  the  proud  Potomac  and  Washing- 
ton City.  Up  to  the  breaking  out  of  the  rebellion,  Arlington  was  the 
homestead  of  Robert  E.  Lee.  In  landscape,  it  was  lofty,  varied  and 
beautiful.  The  most  elevated  part  of  it,  comprising  about  140  acres, 
is  now  enclosed  as  a  National  Cemetery,  and  retains  its  original  name, 
"  Arlington." 

Lee  favored  secession.  He  had  served  a  subaltern,  of  Gen.  Scott, 
and  an  effort  was  made  on  the  part  of  the  General  Government,  through 
Scott,  to  dissuade  him  from  so  rash  a  purpose,  but  of  no  awdl.  He 
joined  the  Confederate  Army,  and  subsequently  became  their  com- 
manding General.  Absence,  4  years  in  the  war,  excluded  Lee  from 
his  estate,  and  subjected  it  to  the  encumbrance  of  unpaid  taxes.  In 
process  of  time  it  was  sold ;  the  Government  purchased  it,  and,  th as 
by  tax  -  title,  became  the  proprietor  in  fee  of  the  whole  estate. 

These  Heights  by  association,  as  well  as  by  location  and  elevation, 
had  become  a  fit  place  as  a  depository  of  the  dead,  then  about  to  be 
exhumed  from  the  neighboring  battle  -  fields  of  the  rebellion,  and  were 
finally  consecrated  to  that  end. 

At  this  time,  passing  over  from  the  bridge  at  Georgetown,  up  to  and 
over  that "  city  of  the  dead,"  the  objects  of  interest  that  present  them- 

465 


APPENDIX. 

selves,  are  numerous  and  impressive.  First  of  all,  on  the  right  side 
of  this  highway,  is  a  field  rising  from  it,  including  a  spacious  hill, 
covered  with  the  graves  of  six  thousand  soldiers.  These  soldiers,  as 
well  as  those  on  the  Heights,  rest  side  by  side,  about  four  feet  apart. 
Gravel  foot-paths,  two  or  three  feet  in  width,  extend  across  the  field 
at  the  foot  of  each  tier  of  graves,  along  which  the  pilgrim  visitor  may 
pass,  and  passing,  may  read  from  a  white  slab  monument  at  the  bead 
of  the  grave,  — 

1.  Its  Number. 

2.  The  soldier's  full  name  and  rank. 

3.  His  State,  Regiment  and  Company. 

4.  Where  and  how  he  fell. 

And  on  the  margin  of  about  one  in  ten  of  all  these  monuments,  in 
impressive  letters,  is  the  word,  "  Rebel."  Iron,  at  some  convenient 
day,  is  intended  to  take  the  place  of  these  board  monuments,  by  which 
the  records  above  named  are  to  be  made  perpetual  and  enduring. 

Note  36,  page  132.  Not  far  beyond  this  field,  on  the  same  road,  is 
the  gate  -  house,  and  a  driveway  leading  from  it  and  from  the  road, 
divers  courses  through  a  dense  forest  of  oaks  up  to  the  Lee  mansion. 

Note  37,  page  133.  In  the  rear  of  the  mansion,  beneath  a  tree  in 
the  forest,  is  a  place  designated  as  the  point  where  the  venerable  Scott 
left  his  horses,  when  he  called  on  Lee  to  dissuade  him  from  his  pur- 
pose of  joining  the  Confederacy. 

Note  38,  page  135.    Still  nearer  to  the  mansion  and  directly  in  rcur 
466 


NOTES. 

of  it,  extending  back  from  it,  are  two  long  and  narrow  buildings,  the 
one  used  as  a  kitchen,  the  other  formerly  occupied  by  the  slaves  of 
the  plantation. 

Note  39,  page  137.  On  the  heights  westward  of  the  mansion,  the 
oaks  open  into  another  spacious  field,  which  has  been  made  the  de- 
pository of  about  13,000  other  soldiers,  in  the  same  form  and  order  as 
in  the  field  described  above  in  Note  35. 

Note  40,  page  140.  Towards  the  southwest  and  within  a  few  rods 
of  the  mansion,  there  is  a  large  monument  of  granite,  with  cannon 
upon  it  pointing  East,  West,  North,  and  South.  On  the  westerly  side 
of  it,  is  an  inscription,  from  which  the  following  is  copied : 

"Beneath  this  stone  are  the  bones  of  2,111  unknown  soldiers,  gathered 
after  th*.  war  from  the  fields  of  Bull  Run  and  the  route  of  the  Rappa- 
hannock.  Their  remains  could  not  be  identified,  but  their  names  and 
deaths  are  recorded  in  the  archives  of  their  country.  Its  grateful  citizens 
cherish  the  memory  of  its  honored  army  of  martyrs.  May  they  rest  in 
peace.— Sept.  1866." 

Note  41,  page  146.  Also  a  similar  instance  of  fidelity  occurred  at 
the  battle  of  Shiloh,  Aug.  10, 1861,  as  related  in  Kirkland's  Incidents 
of  the  War,  page  587,  in  which  it  appears  a  dog  of  Lient.  Louis  Pheff, 
of  Chicago,  that  had  stood  by  him  when  he  fell,  thereafterward,  laid 
upon  his  grave  twelve  days,  and  thus  became  the  only  agency  by 
which  Mrs.  Pheff  found  the  then  resting  place  of  her  fallen  husband. 

Note  42,  page  146.    Not  far  from  the  mansion,  there  is  an  old  Fam 
487 


APPENDIX. 

ily  burying  ground,  containing,  on  its  monuments,  many  names  f;ir 
known  in  former  days. 

Note  43,  page  149.    East  of  the  mansion,  down  towards  the  gate  - 
house,  is  the  lonely  grave  of  Mary  Randolph  Washington,  in  a  lor 
about  12  feet  square.    Heavy  oaks  stand  over  it,  deep  in  the  woods  on 
a  hill  side.    It  is  enclosed  by  a  high  brick  wall. 
468 


APPENDIX. 


NOTE  44— page  157.  The" Bride  of  Burton"  was  written  at  th« 
suggestion  of  one  of  the  author's  friends,  H.  M.  Ordway,  Esq., 
while  on  an  excursion  among  the  mountains  of  New  England,  iu 
the  summer  of  1870. 

The  story  of  Chocorua,  as  found  in  a  vigorous  legend  by  the  late 
Mrs.  Maria  Child,  is  substantially  as  follows: — 

Cornelius  Campbell,  of  Burton,  N.  H.,  left  his  hut  for  a  hunt  in 
June.  When  he  returned  to  dinner,  hi*  wife  and  children  had  tul 
been  slain  by  the  Indians.  Chocorua' s  brethren  were  absent  on  ;i 
hunting  expedition  at  the  time  of  the  murder. 

Afterwards,  Chocorua  was  known  as  having  retreated  to  the 
mountain  which  has  since  borne  his  name.  Campbell  then  got  uj>  a 
party  to  cut  off  the  retreat  of  this  Prophet. 

One  day,  Chocorua  was  startled  at  a  loud  voice  from  beneath 
the  precipice,  commanding  him  to  throw  himself  into  the  deep 
abyss  below. 

He  replied —  "  The  Great  Spirit  gave  Me  to  Chocorua,  and  C'ho- 
corua  will  not  throw  it  away  at  the  command  of  the  white -man." 

"  Then  hear  the  Great  Spirit  speak  in  the  white -man's  thun- 
der 1"  exclaimed  Cornelius  Campbell,  as  he  pointed  his  gun  to  the 
precipice. 

400 


APPENDIX. 


Campbell  fired.  The  next  moment  the  blood  bubbled  from  the 
Prophet's  neck,  and  he  reeled  fearfully  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice. 
But  recovering  and  raiding  himself  on  his  hand,  he  spoke  in  a  loud 
voice,  that  grew  more  terrific  as  its  huskiness  increased. 

"A  curse  on  ye  white  men!  May  the  Great  Spirit  curse  ye 
when  he  speaks  in  the  clouds,  and  his  words  are  fire ! 

" Chocorua  had  a  son;  and  ye  killed  him  when  the  sky  looked 
bright !  Lightnings  blast  your  crops !  Winds  and  fire  destroy  your 
dwellings !  The  evil  spirit  breathe  death  upon  your  cattle !  Your 
graves  lie  in  the  war-path  of  the  Indian!  Panthers  howl  and 
wolves  fatten  over  your  bones ! 

"Chocorua  goes  to  the  Great  Spirit! — his  curse  stays  with  the 
white -man!" 

The  Prophet  sank  upon  the  ground  still  uttering  inaudible 
curses.  They  left  his  bones  there.  From  thence  the  tomahawk 
and  scalping  knife  were  busy  among  them ;  the  winds  tore  up  the 
trees,  and  hurled  them  to  their  dwellings ;  their  crops  were  blasted ; 
their  cattle  died ;  and  sickness  came  upon  then"  strongest  men.  At 
last  the  remnants  of  the  tribe  departed  from  the  fated  spot,  to  min- 
gle with  more  prosperous  colonies.  Cornelius  Campbell  became  a 
hermit,  seldom  seeking  or  seeing  his  fellow -men;  and  two  years 
after,  he  was  found  dead  in  his  hut. 

During  many  years  the  cattle  in  the  town  of  Burton,  now  Al- 
bany, at  the  base  of  Chocorua,  were  afflicted  with  strange  diseases ; 
and  the  strongest  inhabitants  became  sickly. 

But  science  proves  these  diseases  to  have  been  brought  on  by 
impurity  of  the  water  in  that  region,  which  contained  a  weak  solu- 
tion .of  muriate  of  lime.  Yet  for  many  years  they  were  attributed 
to  Chocorua' s  dying  curse. 

T.  Starr  King  says,  the  charming  cultivated  intervals  in  the 
village  of  Albany,  which  now  add  to  the  beauty  of  the  prospect 
from  the  battered  crest  of  Chocorua  mountain,  intimate  either  that 
the  Sachem's  wrongs  have  been  expiated,  or  that  his  dusky  spirit 
has  been  appeased. 

470 


APPENDIX. 


An  account  of  Chocorua  and  his  tragic  death  is  also  given  by 
our  venerable  friend,  Samuel  G.  Drake,  in  his  celebrated  "History  of 
the  North  American  Ijidians,"  published  in  1845.  From  this,  as  well 
as  from  tradition,  it  appears  that  the  dearth,  and  the  diseases,  on  and 
about  this  tragic  mountain,  have  ever  been  attributed  to  the  curse-; 
of  Chocorua. 

NOTE  45 — page  169.  "Little  Lilla"  was  the  daughter  of  our 
neighbor  and  friend,  Mr.  Ira  Leonard,  and  this  brief  lyric  was  writ- 
ten January  25,  1809,  for  her  little  friends. 

NOTE  46 — page  173.  These  brief  lines,  "  OXWART>  TO  THE  SEA," 
are  especially  inscribed  to  the  author's  friend,  Col.  James  Francix, 
of  L.,  a  soldier  who  had  stood  with  Sherman  on  the  shores  of  the  sea. 

NOTE  47 — page  177.  SEDGWICK  fell  in  the  wilderness  of  Vir- 
ginia, May  9,  1864,  not  far  from  the  Spotsylvania  Court  House,  near 
a  stream  called  the  Po. 

Curtis  says:  "The  country  heard  of  his  death  as  of  the  loss  of 
an  army."  At  his  burial  "no  military  salute  was  fired  above  his 
grave ;  but  a  solitary  peal  of  thunder  suggested  the  soldier's  life  and 
death;  Sedgwick  died,  but  the  victory  was  won.". 

NOTE  48 — page  193.  The  poem  to  which  this  note  is  appended 
was  written  as  representing  the  reverie  of  a  young  lady  while  on 
her  first  excursion  up  the  Kenuebec,  iu  August,  1869. 

Brief  allusion  is  made  to  her  uncle,  Hon.  John  A.  Pentingill, 
formerly  Mayor  of  Augusta,  as  one  among  many  of  an  industrious 
people,  who  now  in  the  place  of  the  Red  -  man  inhabit  the  hills  along 
this  historic  river,  and  who  are  distinguished  alike  for  thrift,  urbanity 
and  hospitality. 

In  1607,  two  natives,  Dehamda  and  Skett,  warriors,  who  aided 
in  the  survey  of  the  coast  of  Massachusetts,  under  the  auspices  of 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Popham,  piloted  the  first  New  England  colony 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Sa^adahock  river,  since  called  the  Kennebec. 
Sajadahock,  so  called  by  the  natives,  is  said  to  be  derived  from 

471 


APPENDIX. 

the  word  " Sung- gua- dee- runk,"  which  signifies  "coming  in,"  or 
entrance  of  a  river. 

From  a  deposition  of  one  Lithgow,  given  June  6. 1767,  it  appears 
that  he  had  seen  old  deeds  made  a  century  before  that  time,  wherein 
this  river  had  been  called  the  "  Sagguadahock  and  the  Kennebe<>, 
indifferently." 

The  Kennebec  is  supposed  to  have  taken  its  name  from  a  sachem 
by  the  name  of  Kennebis.  This  sachem,  with  others,  made  convey- 
ances of  lands  on  the  Kennebec. 

In  the  elaborate  "History  of  Augusta,"  by  James  W.  Xorth, 
Esq.,  it  appears  that  the  first  white  adventurer  up  the  Kennebec,  for 
the  purpose  of  trade,  was  Capt.  Edward  Winslow.  This  was  in  the 
year  1625.  His  craft  was  a  shallop  loaded  with  corn.  He  obtained 
seven  hundred  pounds  of  beaver,  besides  other  furs. 

Ancient  "  Cushnoc"  (now  Augusta)  is  rapidly  advancing.  In 
1865,  the  Hon.  William  Sprague's  attention  was  called  to  that  locality 
as  affording  great  power  for  manufacturing  purposes ;  and  his  works 
there  at  this  time  are  fast  becoming  prominent. 

It  is  worthy  of  record,  and  of  commendation,  that  Augusta  in 
January,  1867,  volunteered  a  donation  of  §250,000  to  Messrs.  Sprague 
&  Co.,  as  an  inducement  facilitating  their  generous  enterprises  iu 
that  beautiful  city. 

Since  Winslr>w's  excursion  up  the  Kennebec  in  1625,  its  naviga- 
tion and  trade  has  been  varied,  yet  constantly  progressive.  At  this 
day  it  has  become  profitable  and  interesting  to  the  excursionist  dur- 
ing the  genial  months  of  spring,  summer  and  autumn,  as  well  as  to 
the  magnanimous  people  who  inhabit  its  shores.  . 

NOTE  40 — page  200.  This  epic  (matrimonial)  was  written  De- 
cember 28,  1870,  at  the  suggestion  of  a  party,  who,  on  that  night, 
according  to  the  fashion  of  these  times,  produced  a  surprise  to  Mr. 
G.  S.  and  Mrs.  L.  Hatch,  of  L.,  on  the  anniversary  of  then-  wedding 
day.  The  name  of  Mrs.  H.  before  marriage  was  Hudson. 

It  is  a  common  as  well  as  praiseworthy  trait  in  the  manners  of 
our  people,  as  manifested  by  "social  gatherings,"  "surprises"  and 

472 


APPENDIX. 

otherwise,  that  as  the  years  roll  on,  they  seek  to  make  life  agreeable, 
taking  pleasure  in  recalling  and  perpetuating  its  early  social  and 
kindly  incidents  and  enjoyments. 

NOTE  50 — page  207.  The  landscape  at  the  Lowell  cemetery,  to 
which  allusion  is  made  in  the  context,  is  truly  picturesque  and 
beautiful.  It  has  the  silvery  waters  of  the  fair  Concord  on  its  west, 
and  the  historic  and  cone -like  Fort  Hill  on  its  north.  The  verdure 
is  vigorous  and  its  shades  are  cool  and  inviting. 

Let  no  vandal  hand  hack  down  these  sacred  groves.  Let  no 
corrupt  taste,  adverse  to  nature,  or  to  her  works  or  inspirations) 
be  permitted  to  desecrate  its  silent  mansions,  by  clearing  the 
beautiful  moss  from  the  venerable  monuments,  or  by  removing 
from  them  the  little  foot- prints  of  the  many  kindly  associates  of 
the  saints  who  slumber  beneath  them.  Flowers  are  comely,  but 
they  bloom  but  for  a  day.  The  days  wherein  they  will  be  thought  cf 
in  any  given  case,  will  be  few.  The  life  of  a  man's  friends  who  may 
visit  his  ashes,  is  of  the  like  momentary  duration.  Depend  not 
on  flowers  —  and  away  with  your  marble,  if  you  have  it,  except 
simply  and  permanently  to  mark  the  sod.  Give  to  the  dead  what  t:> 
them  and  to  good  taste  would  be  by  far  more  desirable,  the  lofty  t/ee, 
and  its  deep  shades  inviting  the  pilgrim;  —  the  green  myrtle  —  the 
moss  in  its  vigor  —  the  harmless,  familiar  squirrel  —  and  the  hearl- 
moving,  never-dying  companionship  cf  the  warbling  wild -bird. 
Give  them  these,  and  let  them  rest  in  peace.  It  is  a  matter  <  f 
general  public  interest  that  the  monuments  of  our  dead  should  !>.• 
allowed  to  put  on  Nature's  venerable  true  colorings,  untouched  uf 
vulgar  hands,  and  unwashed  of  soap-suds. 

NOTE  51 — page 214.  "The  Lutheran  and  Missionary"  defines 
the  signification  of  our  country's  flag,  thus  —  "The  icA/'.V-  typifies  the 
purity  of  purpose  which  belongs  to  her  true  ruler;  the  r(d  points  to 
the  crimson  tide  in  which  life  flows  from  a  willing  offering;  the  blue. 
reminds  her  of  the  home  in  heaven,  to  which  the  good  are  gathered. 
The  xturK  in  her  banner  tell  of  light  in  darkness.  Indeed  shall  she 

473 


APPENDIX. 


learn  to  range  them  in  a  new  and  beautiful  order,  as  the  constellation 
of  the  cross." 

NOTE  52 — page  ±11.  As  preliminary  to  secession,  the  slave-power 
seized  the  United  States  mint  in  all  places  within  its  reach ; — and  prior 
to  that  event,  its  leaders,  assisted  by  a  few  northern  representatives, 
had  repealed  the  statute  known  as  the  compromise  act,  as  without 
such  repeal,  Kansas  and  Nebraska  could  not  have  been  made  sub- 
servient to  the  southern  scheme  as  slave  states. 

Thus  having  increased  the  chances  of  obtaining  additional  sena- 
tors from  northern  territory,  to  that  end  they  advanced  to  carry  slaves 
there.  Hence  the  first  battles  for  dominion  and  power  through  slav- 
ery, and  in  fact  the  first  battles  of  the  rebellion  were  fought  in  Kansas. 
And  it  is  by  no  means  difficult  to  perceive,  that  if  the  slave -power 
had  prevailed  in  Kansas  and  Nebraska,  its  usurpations  would  have 
taken  an  entirely  different  turn. 

NOTE  53 — page  228.  At  the  convention  hi  South  Carolina,  in 
December,  1860,  three  reasons  for  secession  were  avowed  —  1st,  that 
the  North,  having  a  majority  hi  Congress,  had  not  voted  a  tariff  suf- 
ficiently favorable  to  southern  interests ;  2nd,  that  it  had  interposed 
and  prevented  the  extension  of  southern  slavery ;  and  3rd,  that  the 
majority  rule  was  wrong,  as  operating  against  the  peculiar  interests 
of  the  slave  states. 

But,  after  all,  the  true  cause  of  the  Rebellion  arose  from  an 
inordinate  ambition  hi  the  slave -state  leaders,  who  sought  to  extend 
and  perpetuate  then1  peculiar  institution,  an  institution  on  which 
they  had  for  many  years  been  combined  and  confederated,  and  who, 
by  force  of  it,  undertook  to  overturn  the  government  and  make  them- 
selves conquerers.  But,  "the  best  laid  schemes  of  mice  and  men 
gang  aft  agley."" — Burns. 

NOTE  54 — page  229.  The  President,  Mr.  Buchanan,  declined  to 
coerce  South  Carolina  into  submission.  He  did  not  believe  in  the 
right  of  the  general  government  to  do  this,  and  by  a  sort  of  hesi- 
tating "let  alone"  policy,  Rebellion  at  the  onset  gained  many 
advantages. 

474 


APPENDIX. 

NOTE  55 — page  230.  Mr.  Lincoln,  while  on  his  way  from  his  resi- 
dence in  Illinois  to  the  seat  of  government,  from  the  fear  of  mobs 
at  Baltimore,  took  a  private  conveyance  and  reached  the  national 
capital  through  a  circuitous  route,  thus  avoiding  danger. 

NOTE  5C — page230.  The  war-ships  of  the  government,  by  seine 
of  its  officers  who  had  become  rebels,  had  been  sent  away  and  di- 
posed  of  in  such  manner  as  not  to  be  available  to  the  government 
at  the  inception  of  the  war. 

NOTE  57 — page23J.  This  statue  was  modeled  under  the  aus- 
pices of  the  King  of  Bavaria,  at  Munich,  by  the  artist,  Van  Rauch, 
of  Berlin,  Prussia ;  and  was  obtained  and  erected  in  the  Queen  City 
through  the  generosity  of  our  friend  and  patron,  Dr.  James  C.  Ayer. 
It  is  believed  no  liner  specimen  of  art  can  be  f  jund  in  any  part  cf 
the  new  world.  The  erecting  of  such  a  statue  at  the  tomb  of  the 
first  martyrs  of  the  Rebellion,  was  truly  appropriate  and  in  good 
taste.  It  is  a  monument  to  the  valor  of  our  people,  creating  a  pub- 
lic interest  in  our  heroes,  which  will  be  likely  to  increase  with  every 
succeeding  generation  of  men  that  stand  within  its  influence.  More 
and  more  as  they  advance,  they  will  not  fail  to  cherish  the  memory, 
of  the  donor  of  so  fine  an  emblem,  so  truthful  and  inspiring. 

It  adds  much  of  interest  to  this  thriving  city,  now  in  its  infancy, 
yet  destined  through  the  enterprise  and  beneficence  of  its  leading 
men  to  stand  high  in  history  for  its  industry,  for  its  learning,  and 
for  its  moral  force,  as  well  as  for  its  works  of  art. 

NOTE  58 — page  250.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Rector,  Wardens, 
and  Vestry  of  St.  Anne's  Church,  holden,  November  1,  1867,  it  was 
voted — 

"That  the  thanks  of  the  Hector,  Wardens,  and  Vestry,  as  Trustees  of  tiie  lU-c- 
tor's  Library,  be  presented  to  Robert  It.  Caverly,  Esq.,  for  Ihc  gii't  of  two  lolio 
volumes  of  the  '  Acts  and  Moinnn  -uts  of  Martyrs.'  by  John  Fox,  London,  1031,  and 
one  folio  volume  of  the  '  Ceremonies  and  Itcligious  Customs  of  Various  Nations,'  by 
Ui-rnard  Pecoit.  London,  1741,  —  rare  and  valuable  of  themselves,  and  doubly  so  from 
the  manner  of  their  public  presentation,  whereby  the  existence  and  claims  of  this 
Library  were  made  known  to  a  large  number  of  our  fellow  -  citizens. 
"  A  true  copy  of  record,  attest, 

'•JOHN-  o.  GUi:r.::, 

'Clerk,  pro.  tern." 

475 


APPENDIX. 

NOTE  59 — page  255.  This  incident  was  related  to  the  author 
by  his  friend,  Mr.  George  S.  Hatch,  of  L.,  and  (as  well  as  all  other 
stories  told  in  this  work)  is  founded  on  fact. 

NOTE  60 — page  257.  The  epic  to  which  this  note  refers  is 
especially  dedicated  to  the  Honorable  Board  of  State  Charities,  in 
Massachusetts.  We  trust  they  will  read  the  following  facts  with 
some  interest. — 

One  John  Burt,  known  to  the  author,  (having  been  a  laborer  in 
his  employ,)  became  a  volunteer  soldier,  and  in  July,  1S64,  was  lost 
in  a  battle  of  "the  Wilderness."  His  family  had  been  left  residing 
in  the  city  of  Q.,  up  to  that  time.  Various  rumors  were  afloat 
relating  to  his  fate.  But  no  definite  information  was  obtained  of 
him  until  the  following  May,  when  the  news  came  that  since  the 
battle,  he  had  been  held  in  a  rebel  prison,  and  had  died  there  of 
starvation.  In  the  mean  tune  his  widow  and  three  of  his  small 
children,  having  come  to  want,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Overseers 
of"  the  Poor  of  Q. ,  who  took  them  to  their  Almshouse.  Soon  after- 
wards they  passed  a  vote  which  appears  on  record,  from  which  the 
following  is  copied : 

"  October  21,  1865.  A  special  meeting  of  the  Overseers  of  the  Poor  was  held  at 
the  .  .  office.  It  was  voted  that  the  following  -named  children  be  transferred  to 
the  Home  .  .  in  .  .  viz : 

"John ,  -         -       aged  10  years, 

"  Catherine ,    - 

"Thomas ,  -          "       5      " 

"It  was  also  voted  that  a  donation  of  §150  be  made  to  the  above-named  institu- 
tion in  connection  wuh  the  transfer  of  these  children." 

Accordingly,  without  being  bound  out  in  writing,  and  without  the 
consent  of  their  mother,  they  were  forcibly  taken  from  her,  and  were 
delivered  into  the  custody  of  the  Superintendent  of  the  Home,  who 
soon  afterwards  carried  the  two  boys  from  Massachusetts  into  some 
part  cf  the  far  West,  leaving  them  there  among  strangers  and  beyond 
the  mother's  reach,  under  the  avowed  pretext  of  finding  for  them 
hotter  homes.  Yet  if  these  children  (as  it  was  known)  had  been 
allowed  to  remain  at  home,  they  would  have  had  ample  support 
with  their  mother  under  the  United  States  pension  laws. 

476 


APPENDIX. 

In  the  August  then  next  following,  this  mother,  through  the 
intervention  of  a  friend,  was  taken  from  the  Almshouse,  a  bond 
being  exacted  and  given  to  said  Overseers,  exhonorating  the  town 
from  any  further  liability  to  support  her,  as  the  ultimate  condition 
upon  which  the  bereaved  matron,  then  sick,  was  allowed  to  be  *et 
free.  Ever  since  then,  for  at  least  five  years,  groat  diligence  has 
been  exercised  on  behalf  of  the  mother  to  obtain  her  children,  but 
as  yet  to  no  purpose.  What  became  of  little  Catherine,  or  to  whose 
keeping  she  was  committed  from  "  the  Home"  (or  whether  for  good 
or  for  ill)  up  to  the  time  of  this  writing,  has  never  been  ascertained. 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  its  Superintendent  persistently  avers  that 
he  does  not  know  and  cannot  tell  what  became  of  Katie.  In  sight 
of  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  and  in  behalf  of  a  bereaved,  distracted, 
ili/in'j  mother,  may  we  not  continue  to  ask  —  "Where  is  her  little 
daughter,  Katie?" 

The  song  to  which  this  note  is  appended,  has  been  written 
with  the  hope  that  it  may  prove  in  the  minds  of  men  an  induce- 
ment to  protect  by  proper  enactments  the  just  rights  of  the  widow 
and  orphan ;  at  least  that  it  may  lead  to  measures  by  which  a  dis- 
tracted mother  may  be  enabled  to  find  and  obtain  her  lost  children. 

In  the  light  of  such  case,  we  are  inclined  to  believe  as  did  an 
ancient  writer,  that  an  outrage  like  this  is  sometimes  providentially 
permitted,  and  is  allowed  to  be  made  historic  "in  order  that  the 
actions  of  men  may  not  be  effaced  by  time,  nor  the  great  and  won- 
derous  deeds  displayed  both  by  Greeks  and  barbarians  deprived  of 
renown. ' ' — llerodil  ux. 

NOTE  01 — page  2(>1).  It  has  been  thought  by  many,  yet  perhaps 
erroneously,  that  one  of  the  objects  for  carrying  Catholic  children 
into  the  far  west  was  to  make  them  Protestants  by  consigning  them 
to  Protestant  families  during  their  years  of  minority. 

NOTE  02 — page  270.  The  mother  above  referred  to,  mazed  at 
times  by  reason  of  her  bereavements,  was  sometimes  known  to  have 
wandered  by  the  river -side,  in  the  wilderness,  and  on  the  hills,  call- 
ing I'ov  her  lost  children. 

477 


APPENDIX. 

NOTE  03 — page  271.  Lately  we  have  learned  that  at  least  one 
of  the  Courts  in  this  country  is  beginning  to  promulgate  the  law 
as  it  is,  and  as  it  should  be  in  such  case.  We  refer  the  reader  to  a 
recent  decision  by  the  Supreme  Court  of  Illinois,  in  the  case,  Peo- 
ple ex.  rel.  O'Connel  vs.  Turner — in  the  light  of  which  the  kidnap- 
ping of  children  under  color  of  legal  enactments,  or  any  other 
pretext,  would  be  put  to  shame. 

NOTE  64 — page  287.  WATCHENOET  was  one  of  the  chiefs  who 
conveyed  land -titles  in  New  Hampshire. 

NOTE  65 — page  288.  MIANTONIMO  was  a  chief,  said  to  have 
been  friendly,  tall  and  cunning.  He  hunted  the  forests  in  this  region 
of  country,  of  which  Major  Richard  Waldron  was  chief  among  the 
whites.  Mossup,  a  brother  of  Miantonimo,  was  killed  by  the  Mo- 
hawks about  twenty  miles  "  above  the  Piscataqua,"  and  was  buried 
by  Major  Waldron.  Major  Waldron  was  afterwards  cruelly  mur- 
dered by  the  Indians  in  his  own  house  and  within  his  own  garrison, 
at  Cocheco,  now  Dover,  N.  H.,  on  the  night  of  June  27,  1680. 

NOTE  66 — page  304.  The  chime- bells  at  Lowell,  to  which  allu- 
sion is  made,  were  obtained  at  the  cost  of  about  $5000, — raised 
mostly  by  donations  from  its  citizens.  It  is  pleasant  to  find  here  a 
taste  well  cultivated  for  music  as  well  as  for  poetry. 

As  of  common  interest,  the  names  and  inscriptions,  as  found  on 
the  eleven  bells  composing  the  chime,  are  appended. 

Eb  —  2271  Ibs.     HEDRICK  BELL. 

From  the  tower  of  St.  Anne's 

We  praise  thee !  0  God,  and  celebrate  thy  blessing  on  the  generous  endeavors  of 
George  Hedrick,  Esq.,  and  other  citizens  and  friends  whereby  we  were  placed  here  to 
ring  Thy  praise : — 

"Gloria  Patn  Filio  Spirituqite!" 
A.  D.     1857. 

F— 1448  Ibs.     CITIZENS'  BELL. 

"  Art  is  the  handmaid  of  human  good."  We  were  purchased  through  the 
generosity  of  the  citizens  of  Lowell. 

A.  D.  1857. 

478 


APPENDIX. 


G — 1134  Ibs.     PARISH  BELL. 

First  public  worship  in  the  village  (now  Lowell)  by  Rev.  Theodore  Bison,  March 
7,  1824.  St.  Anne's  Church  consecrated  March  1C,  A.  D.  1825.  Allan  Pollock  and 
Warren  Colburn,  first  church  Wardens. 

Ab— 956  Ibs.     HISTORICAL  BELL. 

Merrimack  Company  began  work  A.  D.  1822.  Town  of  Lowell  incorporated 
A.  D.  1826.  City  charter  granted  A.  D.  1836. 

A.  D.  1837. 

Bb  — 783  Ibs.     OLE  BULL  BELL. 

This  Bell  was  the  gift  of 

Ole  Bull, 
The  great  violinist  of  Bergen,  Norway. 

A.  D.  1857. 
"Honor  to  whom  honor  is  due." 

B — 683  Ibs.     MUSICIANS'  BELL. 

To  the  memory  of  Handel! 
Born  A.  D.  1684,  died  A.  D.  1758. 

Presented  by  the  principal  musical  professors  and  amateurs  of  Lowell,  A.  D.  1857. 
To  music,  noble  Art  divine ! 
Ring  forth  ye  bells  a  merry  chime ! 

C— 608  Ibs.     HOVEY  BELL. 

A  memorial  to  George  H.  Carleton,  late  Junior  Warden  of  St.  Anne's  Church. 
Presented  to  the  Church  by  Charles  Hovey,  as  an  expression  of  affection  for  his  earlj 
master  and  late  partner. 

A.  D.  1857. 

D  b  —  565  Ibs.     BISHOP'S  BELL. 

Rt.  Rev.  Manton  Eastburn,  D.  D., 

Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 

Consecrated  Dec.  26,  1842. 

"Tanquam  Dei  dispensatorum.  ep.  ad  Titum." 

D  — 530  Ibs.     HECTOR'S  BELL. 

Presented  by 

The  ladies  of  St.  Anne's  Church, 
To  perpetuate  the  memory  of  their  beloved  and  devoted  Pastor, 

Rev.  Tkeorlore  EJson,  D.  D., 
Rector  of  the  ParUh  since  the  consecration, 

A.  D.  1825. 

"  Blest  is  the  tie  that  binds 
Our  hearts  in  Christian  love." 

479 


APPENDIX. 


Eb— 431  Ibs.     FOUNDER'S  BELL. 

Jones  &  Hitchcock, 

Troy,  Rens.  Co..  X.  Y., 

Aug.,  A.  D.  1857. 

F— 460  Ibs.     AVER'S  BELL. 

Presented  by 
James  C.,  and  Frederick  Ayer, 

Chemists, 

Lowell,  A.  D.  1857. 
"Omnibus  quae  prosunt  sequimer." 

•       480 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-42m-8,'49  (B5573)444 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


